


Nubivagant

by opalescentgold



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Animal Metaphors, Canon-Typical Violence, Devil in Angel's Clothing, Herbivores, Mild Language, Paperwork, Self-Destructive Idiots, Spartan Training, Underage Smoking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-03
Updated: 2017-04-30
Packaged: 2018-05-04 18:40:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 89,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5344490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/opalescentgold/pseuds/opalescentgold
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Namimori was a strange town filled with odd people, often brimming with explosions and gunshots and mysterious flares of flames and light. Luckily, Masami considered herself well-suited for such a world. She was a Hibari, after all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Waltz

_Waltz: a dance in triple time performed by a couple who as a pair turn rhythmically around and around as they progress around the dance floor._

* * *

"Kyoya."

Hibari Kyoya looked up at his father, shoving long strands of black hair out of his eyes. He would need to get a haircut soon, the two-year-old thought absently, this was no good for training. And he needed training.

He wanted to be strong, like his mother, like his father.

"Otou-san?" Was it time? He had waited for so, so long with that strange not-baby in red clothes for his parents to return from the hospital. Kyoya knew the not-baby, always smiling and calm, was strong, but he liked the monkey better, and his parents the best.

"Come," Hibari Satoshi commanded simply, turning on his heel. His steps were strong and sure and silent on the tatami mats, long black hair twisted into a topknot like a samurai of old.

Kyoya followed his father to the new room that they had prepared in the last month. He had, with Otou-san's help, painted the fusuma panels himself with a creamy color that had then been patterned with bamboo shoots and vines.

Admittedly, the child had gotten most of the paint on himself and on the floor than actually on the wall, but that wasn't the point.

As he stepped into the nursery, he found his mother sitting seiza on a zabuton, back ruler-straight and eyes sharp as knives. There was a bundle of white cloth in her arms. Hibari Rika was missing the swelled stomach she'd had for a while now, her white yukata flowing loosely onto the floor.

"Come meet your baby sister, Kyoya," she said without looking up from the delicate parcel she held. Okaa-san smiled as Otou-san came to stand by her, body curved protectively over the newcomer.

Kyoya crossed the room on careful feet, feeling oddly expectant. Kneeling next to his mother, he peered down, gazing down into a young and innocent face in the grasps of peaceful slumber. Was this it, his newborn younger sibling?

"She looks weak," he said with a small frown, almost afraid to touch her. It was as if she would shatter with a poke, so soft and fragile and vulnerable. Had he ever been this frail? He didn't think so.

"She will grow," Otou-san replied evenly, lifting a hand to stroke the crown of dark hair that the baby boasted. "Your sister is but a few days old at the moment."

"What's her name?" Kyoya asked, watching the gentle rise and fall of her chest, the evidence that she was alive, this small life that was now his to watch over, although his parents had said nothing of that sort. He was a smart boy.

"Masami," Okaa-san proclaimed as the baby yawned widely and peeled open her eyelids so steel gray eyes, fuzzy with sleep, could blink up at them with interest. "The newest member of the Hibari family."

* * *

His new sister, Kyoya realized as the months flew past in a blur of tears and diapers and giggles, was a relatively quiet baby compared to the few playmates that his mother occasionally brought to the house. They were disruptive, annoying, screaming at the slightest provocation. It made his head hurt.

Masami rarely cried. Rather, she liked to observe the world around her with curious eyes, batting at the toys that his parents gave her and patiently fussing with the puzzles that were meant for mental stimulation, cooing delightedly at him or his parents when they appeared.

But that didn't mean she wasn't a baby yet.

Kyoya winced and was thrown to the floor as a wail echoed throughout the house, insistent and demanding. He remained unaccustomed to the noise that occasionally tried to burst his eardrums though he would have to adapt.

"Enough," Otou-san said, striding out of the training room without further ado. Okaa-san had left to do the shopping, leaving her husband and son to keep an eye on the previously slumbering baby.

Kyoya gritted his teeth and got back on his feet, hurrying after his father. Already having picked up the crying baby, Satoshi glanced at his firstborn.

"Prepare some milk," he ordered, rocking his daughter from side to side soothingly. Masami frequently woke up hungry, so that was most likely the issue, though her cries had already dwindled down to sad sniffling. Her hands waved in the air, making shaky grabbing motions.

Kyoya nodded and headed off to the kitchen where he quickly prepared the milk formula as his mother had taught him not long ago. Shaking the bottle, he handed it back to his father and frowned at his sister, not that she was in any position to care.

Otou-san nodded in thanks and held it up to Masami, who latched onto the nipple immediately and began sucking. "You must refine your concentration. Loud noises cannot knock you off balance."

"Hai." Kyoya stared at his baby sister with a mild frown, still not quite sold on her. "When is she going to talk?" Thus far, all Masami had vocalized were baby talk and nonsensical babbling. Completely unsuitable.

"Whenever she so wishes," Satoshi said unhurriedly. "Masami is only five months old. Be patient, Kyoya. Patience will do you well in life." Otou-san could sit and meditate for hours on end without effort.

Kyoya wasn't so certain but nodded in reluctant acquiescence. He would try.

* * *

"Happy Birthday, Masami," Kyoya said solemnly to the girl he held in his arms. She was strong enough now that he could carry her in a vertical position, gray eyes darting here and there, hands clinging feebly to his shirt.

Masami giggled, smiling toothily at her older brother. She had started teething not long ago, and while she was behaving for now, he hadn't been impressed at all when she had started chewing on his stuff animals, and occasionally, Kyoya himself.

Now officially a year old on the second of April, she still hadn't said her first word, but their parents weren't concerned, even though Kyoya was a bit disappointed. Rika and Satoshi had been betting with each other on who their daughter would call for first.

"This way, Kyoya," Okaa-san told him with a small smile, gracefully leading her children to the chabudai covered in red cloth. Taking Masami from his arms, Rika placed her daughter in the center of the table and stepped back. This custom had actually been integrated into the Hibari family from their relatives in China, particularly Fon.

Whatever Hibari Masami might choose, it would be her choice alone that decided her future.

Kyoya watched silently with his parents as his sister glanced around questioningly at the splay of various items before her. He didn't remember doing this himself, but Otou-san had told him that it was from this tradition that he'd received his first pair of tonfa.

Masami blinked slowly and began to crawl around on the cloth, eyes bright with curiosity. She could stand now, but walking was still out of her reach. Moving past a broadsword and a revolver, she smiled and wrapped her fingers around—

"A gunsen," Kyoya identified as Masami played with the Japanese war fan with delight, instinctively avoiding the sharp edges that decorated the seemingly harmless weapon.

Okaa-san smiled coolly, satisfaction glittering in her dark eyes. "Excellent." An assassin commonly disguised as a courtesan, Rika had recognized from the start that her son was not suited to her talents, but that of her husband's.

But her daughter...oh, her daughter was her's to guide.

Satoshi smirked faintly and shook his head. As a man of the law, he supposed he should stop his wife from creating another holy terror. At least Kyoya would use his powers for good...mostly.

But as a husband...

"Do try and keep her humble," he advised.

"Now, would I not?" she sniffed.

"Certainly."

* * *

"Oniiii—?"

Kyoya paused his katas and looked up to find Masami sitting on the floor, blinking at him with wide, inquisitive eyes, a pout on her lips. The uchiwa she had been playing with previously was a crumpled mess on the floor.

' _...Okaa-san and Otou-san aren't going to like this_ ,' he thought to himself, though, in his opinion, it made perfect sense. While their parents made certain that _one_ of them was around at all times, Rika and Satoshi were nearly always busy with work, leaving it to Kyoya to look after Masami the majority of the time.

Naturally, his title would be the first word she ever spoke. They had both lost that bet.

"Onii _-san_ ," Kyoya corrected with a satisfied smile, walking forward to see what his little sister wanted. She beamed at him and raised her arms in the universal gesture to be held.

Sighing to himself, the dark-haired boy lifted Masami up and frowned at her sternly. "You're going to be spoiled," he scolded half-heartedly, lips twitching.

She merely laughed and clapped her hands, looking up at Kyoya's face adoringly. "Onii-san! Onii-san!" Masami cheered, waving her fists in the air.

Kyoya sighed again and then froze as a chilling aura appeared in the doorway, his Okaa-san's sickly sweet voice soft with venom. " _What_ was that, Kyoya?"

The three-and-a-half-year-old hesitated for a split second before squaring his shoulders and turning to meet his doom. In his defense, _Kyoya_ hadn't been encouraging Masami to call her older brother's moniker at all.

* * *

Masami sniffed and tiptoed into her big brother's room, rubbing at her eyes. She didn't like the dark, even though she was three years old now and her parents kept telling her that it was nothing to be afraid of. "Onii-san?"

Kyoya came awake instantly, dark eyes instantly finding her in the gloom of his room, lit only by a faint stream of moonlight. She envied how he could do that, but Okaa-san said she would be able to, too...one day. One day.

"Masami," he said quietly, sitting up in his bed. "What's wrong?"

"'m scared," she whispered, bottom lip wobbling and tears glinting in her eyes. She swallowed hard and did her very best not to let the tears fall. Crying, she knew although no one had told her, was unwelcome and improper.

Kyoya considered that for a moment. He had probably never been scared in his life. "Why?"

"Had a n-nightmare," Masami confided, lowering her eyes to the ground. She knew it was silly of her to be scared by a nightmare at this age. They were meant to be tough and fierce and powerful, not scared by fake things like dreams.

Onii-san grunted and shifted over in silent invitation. "What was it about?" he asked while she slipped into his futon, slipping under the warm comforter.

"I-I was being tied up," she said, cuddling close. "A-And I co-couldn't move and then they were lighting me on fire, and—and—"

Kyoya sighed and made a note to inform their mother that her horror stories of witches being burned at the stake in the Dark Ages were not good for his sister's state of mind. "Hn. Herbivores are not frightening, Masami."

"Herbivores?"

"Weak, harmless, pathetic creatures. They make up more than ninety-nine percent of this world," he told her calmly. "Tell your nightmare herbivores that I'll bite them all to death."

Masami was startled into a giggle. "W-Will that work?"

"Of course."

And true to word, she didn't have any nightmares that night with her older brother curled up around her.

* * *

"Leaving?" A four-year-old Masami peered up sorrowfully at Kyoya, a petulant frown on her lips. "Onii-san's leaving?"

"Only for a little while," Kyoya promised, blank-faced, practice tonfa hidden away on his person. Okaa-san and Otou-san had made sure he knew how to take care of himself, and Masami was already starting on training. Theirs was a family built on strength, and even their youngest would know how to protect herself.

"Where?" She tilted her head, hurrying to keep up with her older brother's longer strides as they walked to the door, her small purple kimono brushing the floor. Rika loved to play dress-up with her daughter, but Masami didn't mind. The long sleeves were fun to swing around.

"School," he said shortly, eye twitching at the thought of crowds of annoying, loud, weak herbivores. He went out with their parents sometimes, and the utter lack of discipline beyond their house was horrifying to witness. "Namimori Elementary School."

"Oh." Masami smiled demurely, latching tightly onto his left leg at the door. "Good luck, Onii-san!"

"Hn." Kyoya spared a pat on the head for his baby sister. When she let go, he scowled and went off to school for the first time.

After Onii-san left, Masami spent the day as usual, if a bit more distracted than usual. There were etiquette lessons, training in tessenjutsu, hand-to-hand combat, shodo, reading time...

"Stand up straight!" Rika snapped, examining her daughter with a critical eye. "Chin up, shoulders back, and alert, Masami! Eyes on me!"

"Hai, Okaa-san," she said obediently, trying not to let the heavy books stacked up on her head fall. Balancing, Masami had been told, was essential for training and a good exercise for building up the necessary grace her mother demanded.

Then, there was tai chi, ikebana, anatomy, tea ceremony, snack time, meditation...

The front door slammed open with a bang, the tension in the entire house rising dramatically. Eyes flying wide open, Masami made puppy-dog eyes at her mother, who sighed and gestured for her to go. Beaming, the little girl dashed to the genkan and flung herself at Kyoya.

"Onii-san!"

Catching her with gentle hands automatically, the dark frown on Kyoya's face lightened slightly. "Masami."

"Welcome back, Kyoya," Rika greeted, coming up behind her daughter at a much slower pace. "Masami, what have I told you? Glide, don't stomp. And what's the proper way to greet your brother?"

Masami heaved a heavy sigh and pulled back from Kyoya to perform an elaborate bow awkwardly. "Greetings, Onii-san," she chanted dutifully.

The corners of Kyoya's mouth tilting subtly in a smirk, he relented enough to give a small nod to his long-suffering sister. Their mother was a harsh taskmaster, especially on Masami. Then again, their father was the same with Kyoya.

"Good, now don't make me say it again," Okaa-san said sternly before turning to her son. "Kyoya, I'm going to go grocery shopping. Watch your sister."

"Hai." Knowing his mother, Kyoya was of the mind that she wouldn't get back until ten o'clock at night, leaving him to make dinner for the two of them. Admittedly, Masami was a good sous chef, for, despite her wariness of flame and hot oil, she was almost frighteningly skilled with small knives.

"So?" Masami dropped the formality as soon as Rika was gone to flutter around Kyoya curiously, long black hair twirling in the air. "How was school, Onii-san?"

"Terrible," he said bluntly, stalking into the kitchen and falling into a chair. "Masami, tea."

"Hai!" Setting up water to boil, she prepared the teapot with confidence. Practice made perfect, after all, and Rika made her practice twice daily. "What was wrong with it?"

"The herbivores," Kyoya growled, eyebrows coming together, "were even worse than I expected. Constantly chattering and crowding, unbelievably weak, completely without discipline, littering everywhere and stupid beyond what I thought was possible."

Masami hummed to herself, trying to think of a way to fix things like Okaa-san always said she should. The best way for her right now, Rika had said, was to start small and build her way up. "What about the teachers?" she asked, scrambling onto the chair next to her brother's. "Aren't they supposed to enforce the rules of the school?"

He scoffed dismissively, looking at her sideways in a way that meant she'd said something very stupid. "Just as pathetic. They do nothing."

"Hmm, well then," she said, leaping down to pour the hot water into the teapot, "why don't you do something about it, Onii-san? You're really strong." Really, really strong. Masami never stood a chance of more than two minutes when they sparred.

But that was okay. Okaa-san said she'd improve if she kept training, so Masami always did her best when it came to training time. She didn't want Onii-san to leave her behind!

Kyoya was silent while they waited for the tea to steep, but the smirk that stretched over his face at last could have chilled the bravest of men. "You're right. I do believe that is exactly what I'll do." The manner in which he fingered his tonfa made his intentions clear.

Masami mimicked their mother's serene smile and poured the tea.

* * *

After that, with some help from their father, Kyoya set up a patrol around Namimori Elementary School, biting to death any and all wrongdoers that he caught with his tonfa. It was very efficient and effective, to the collective horror of the teachers, parents, and students.

Mostly, especially, the students.

Masami was just content to stay at home, practicing with her fan and learning what her parents wanted to teach her.

Traditionally, tessenjutsu was defensive in nature, with plenty of joint-locking and strangulation techniques thrown in. When closed, the fan could be used to strike like a baton, occasionally at pressure points, or to parry and shield. The ribs were sharpened, enabling her to stab or jab if she wanted. When open, the fan could be used to disorient opponents and slash with the fan's sharp edge.

Okaa-san, being awesome and scary, went ten steps beyond that and crafted razor sharp iron foils with a coating of white palladium on her daughter's fan, enabling increasingly interesting and deadly maneuvers.

Of course, Masami was taught every style of combat possible for fans. Hibaris never did anything halfway, much less the security and protection of one of their own. She was also cautioned to be very careful to not slice her own throat with the gunsen. That would be absolutely pitiable.

On the side, there was aikido, dancing, poisons and antidotes, shogi, calligraphy, pressure points, kimono styles, shamisen, go...

Rika knew a lot of stuff.

Masami loved to dance in particular. At times, when her mother was busy with something or another, she would just creep into the sparring room and dance with her fan to the beat of her heart. It was like flying, she thought, the purest freedom in the world.

When Okaa-san caught her once, she just nodded and said it was good for her balance and mobility. Whatever _that_ meant. Then, Rika taught her the waltz, tango, and foxtrot, and hammered in dance styles until her head hurt and her muscles ached.

Satoshi, on the other hand, liked to emphasize honor, rules, and integrity. He was responsible for educating Masami on the outside world, the politics and governing of Japan, Italy, France, etc., as well as the basics of math, science, diplomacy, and history.

There was also the occasional info on the shadowy underworld, but that was meant to be kept a secret.

Otou-san was also the one who sat her down one day and explained the world. "There are three different types of people in the world, Masami. First, there are the herbivores, who crowd together to protect themselves and follow wherever the crowd leads. The world consists of numerous herbivores."

"Like Onii-san's classmates?" Despite his new patrols, Kyoya would still sometimes mutter in disgust when he came back home about the herbivores he was forced to associate with. Masami normally just listened and nodded understandingly.

"That's right. Then, there are the carnivores, like our family. We are the strong that will inherit the world, the ones that corral the herbivores when it is necessary. We protect our territory and do not hesitate to fight for what is ours. There aren't many carnivores in the world."

"What about the third type?"

"The omnivores. They are both herbivores and carnivores, the rarest, I believe. Capable of herbivorous behavior and carnivorous strength, omnivores tend to stay herbivores until the situation is dire, and then rise to the challenge as a carnivore."

"But we're the carnivores?"

"Yes. Don't ever forget that."

Onii-san was gone during the day for school, but when he came home, Okaa-san or Otou-san would go out, sometimes to buy food and sometimes to do other activities. Satoshi investigated, and Rika murdered, leaving the two children to spend the night however they wanted.

There were never any problems. Both Kyoya and Masami were independent children, probably the most independent children in Namimori. They sparred most of the time—Kyoya always won—and then Kyoya did his homework while Masami fiddled with puzzles and riddles. Eventually, they made dinner, and then it was bedtime.

Neither of them were much bothered by the long stretches of silence so everything worked out. The quiet was comforting, in a way.

Occasionally, if by some rare chance Kyoya got injured in a fight, Masami would frown and get out the First-Aid Kit to patch him up. She never fussed because she knew her brother wouldn't like it, and by mutual agreement, they didn't tell their parents.

Even though they probably knew anyway.

A year passed. And then two.

Masami was five. She went to school.

* * *

"Greetings. My name is Hibari Masami. Please be good to me." She bowed smoothly and sat back down, smiling pleasantly.

That smile was a lie, but Rika had been very clear on this. First impressions were important...though by the whispers already drifting through the small classroom, there was no need.

Onii-san had made a big impact during his two years.

"Hibari? Isn't that...!"

"That really scary guy my brother told me about!"

"I hear he attacks anyone who doesn't follow the rules!"

"Are they really related?"

Masami pursed her lips mildly, but said nothing as the next student was called to introduce himself. So far, she hadn't been at all impressed with her elementary school. Or, to be more exact, her classmates were none too interesting.

But she guessed she should give them a chance or two. Just to be fair.

Despite that thought, Masami still spent nearly the entirety of the remaining class time staring out the window. She wondered what was out there, beyond the horizon.

* * *

When recess came around at last, the teacher, Yumiko, breathed a sigh of relief. The first week of the year was always the worst. Well, the last could compete and it was a narrow win, but nevertheless, it was the first, so chaotic and confusing.

Stepping out to supervise the children, she observed happily that most of the kids had befriended one or two others and were now playing without a care in the world. Some of the boys had even started a game of soccer.

...maybe not _soccer,_ she corrected herself when one of the boys—Kusaka Kozue, if she recalled correctly—picked up the ball and threw it, but a game, a bastardized sport undoubtedly.

Sweeping her gaze across the field, she suddenly noticed a girl leaning against the fence, quite obviously alone. Frowning in concern, for no child should ever be left to play alone, Yumiko made her way over to the forlorn student and was promptly pinned to be spot by dove gray eyes.

The teacher froze unwittingly, her mind catching up at long last as she took in _who_ the girl was. Long ebony silk pinned up by elegant flower kanzashi, several strands long enough to brush her collarbone, high cheekbones, faultless posture.

Hibari Masami.

Yumiko knew of Hibari Kyoya, of course, everyone did. She didn't entirely approve of his disciplinary methods—by God, she had seen him beat someone bloody!—but she did admit that the school had certainly calmed down since he came along.

There were less infractions, fewer fights, diminished trouble from the students. So, the teacher was predisposed to like Masami with her lovely manners and gentle smile, even as she understood her other students' reserve regarding the girl completely.

"Yumiko-sensei," Masami greeted with a graceful bow that Yumiko found herself ridiculously jealous of. She herself would probably trip and fall head first, and she was more than twenty years older! "Is there something the matter?"

Shaking off her musings, Yumiko knelt down to the girl's level with a warm smile. "No, no, Masami-chan. I was just wondering: why aren't you playing with everyone else?"

Masami straightened up, looking unusually thoughtful for her age. Looking around the playground, she reached up and removed the object that hung around her neck, snapping it open to reveal a lovely black fan with gleaming silver patterns.

Taken aback though she didn't show it as the girl began to fan herself lightly, Yumiko couldn't help but question what sort of people the child's parents were to invoke such odd behavior in a five-year-old. Surely, they must be rich. Perhaps she was imitating her mother? It _would_ explain Kyoya.

Somewhat. Maybe. Not really...

"I'm afraid I don't really like the games my classmates prefer," Masami said finally, smiling sweetly. "May I go inside and read a picture book?"

Yumiko frowned a bit, bewilderment creasing her brow. A bookworm, then? It wouldn't be the first time she'd heard the request from some of the more introverted students. "Alright," she allowed reluctantly. "Come with me."

As Masami followed the teacher back into the classroom, her gunsen hidden away in plain sight, she absently noticed the boy at the edge of the playground with spiky brown hair was being bullied.

She narrowed her eyes minutely and made a note to investigate later.

* * *

"Well?" Okaa-san crossed her arms, eyes steady on her youngest when the two returned home together for the sixth time. "How was school today?"

"Boring," Masami proclaimed, pouting cutely. "I already know all the stuff they teach us." Although, at least the teachers had had the decency to introduce origami today.

"I told you it was filled with herbivores," Kyoya reminded her, slipping off his shoes. "They're dull."

"I know," she sighed, wandering off to the kitchen to prepare their customary tea, "but I still expected more."

Rika nodded contemplatively and left to go talk to her husband.

"Neh, Onii-san, can I see the school registry?" Masami inquired after they finished their tea. The Hibaris were a traditional family, but they weren't so stupid as to neglect factors that were best on their side. Technology was one of them. For all that their home was old-fashioned, they did have the latest computers available, should they need the resource.

Personally, she liked books better, and her brother didn't much bother with it at all, but they had both been taught how to use the world of machinery to their advantage.

Kyoya flicked a telling look at her. "Why?" He knew his sister; she wouldn't have gotten in trouble so early on. And even if she had, she would have gotten out of it with ease.

"Curious," she said with an innocent smile. Okaa-san had drilled into her head that appearances were to be taken advantage of, and Masami was a five year old with a cute face.

The slight quirk of his eyebrow said quite plainly that her brother wasn't fooled at all, but Kyoya let it pass, getting up and logging them into the school website. "Your class?"

"Yes, please." Clearing the table, Masami began the preparations for dinner. While her brother could cook and did cook, she was better at it, so long as he kept a close eye on her when it came to the stove.

"Here." Kyoya turned the screen in her direction, rising to start chopping the carrots.

Drying her hands on a towel, Masami jumped off the stall that she used to reach the counter and searched the pictures displayed. It was easy to find the boy with his laughably fluffy hair.

Sawada Tsunayoshi.

Pursing her lips, Masami retrieved her fan and flipped it between her fingers, thinking. She would let it go for now. It was only the second week, so he'd probably get back up on his feet in a month or so. Besides, she didn't want to get involved in other people's affairs unless she couldn't help it.

"Done?" Kyoya asked blandly, the carrots now in thirty neat little slices and the onions next to go on the execution board.

"One more second." Masami quickly scanned the page, memorizing pictures to names. Personal impressions were important, too.

Clicking on the exit button once she was done, she shut down the computer and concentrated on making delicious chicken stew. Maybe hamburger steak tomorrow? It was Onii-san's favorite.

Ooh, and perhaps some dango the day after? That was Masami's favorite dessert.

* * *

With how very pervasive Kyoya's reputation was, there would have been trouble sooner or later. Her brother had warned her himself, so Masami was somewhat surprised when the first incident came more than two weeks later.

She had thought they would have realized much sooner. Really, it wasn't as if there _wasn't_ family resemblance.

"Hmph. So this is that brute's little sister?" The boy, two or three years older than her and a victim of her brother's tonfa no doubt, sneered down at her, a purple bruise vivid against the pale white of his skin.

His friend cracked his knuckles, smirking. "You should tell your brother not to mess around, little girl. Who in the world cares about littering?!"

"Don't worry, we'll make this quick," the third student sneered, closing in on Masami from the right while the first and second boxed her in from the front and the left. "When we're done with you, make sure to give our regards to your beast of a brother!"

Masami merely eyed the three idiots and sighed, closing her book gently. It was recess, and she, as usual, had asked to go inside to read. Yumiko-sensei was outside looking after the others, leaving her alone. Pity that she wasn't the easy prey that the older students expected. She could last up to fifteen minutes against Onii-san by now.

"Please cease and desist at once," Masami requested softly, retrieving her fan and snapping it open to fan herself faintly. "I would rather not dance today." They would be unpleasant partners anyway.

"Hah, what does that even mean!?" the second student spit out, face twisting up. "What, going to call for big brother to come to the rescue? Dance? Who's dancing here?!" The other two joined him in laughing tauntingly, the ugly sound echoing in the empty classroom.

Masami could only exhale in resignation and shake her head. She put her book down and glanced around, pointedly memorizing the faces of the three boys. Should it be necessary, she would be able to look them up in the school registry later.

"Take this, you little brat!" The first boy roared, pulling back a fist. Slow. His stance was all wrong, too, full of easily exploitable holes. After so long solely sparring against her family, it was almost shocking how...weak this boy was. A hopeless herbivore, as Onii-san would say.

Pressing her lips together, Masami leaped from her seat in a fluid movement, closing her fan. There was no need to severely injure these fools. Whacking the first student in the neck with the steel gunsen, she was already moving before the other two could register the blow.

The boy from the left had rushed forward and barely managed to widen his eyes before she landed a blow to his stomach, and then followed up with another to the back of his head. She hit just enough to incapacitate, not enough to kill any brain cells, if he ever even had any in the first place.

"You retard!" The last one howled as his friends slumped to the floor, charging head-on at Masami with no finesse whatsoever. Suppressing her eye-roll—not proper, Okaa-san had said over and over—she turned to the side, the punch rustling a few strands of her hair as it passed, and struck the boy right in the solar plexus.

He fell, and she straightened up, the sudden skirmish shockingly short. Barely a few seconds had passed from beginning to end.

Pursing her lips, Masami gracefully stepped over the fallen students and spread her fan open to hold over the bottom half of her face. Judging by what she knew of Onii-san's patrols...

The door swung open to crash harshly into the wall with a jarring bang. Her brother stood in the doorway, tonfa in hand. A single glance of the room gave him the essentials of what had happened, and Kyoya raised an eyebrow at Masami.

She only smiled brightly, removing her fan from her face to greet her brother with a flourish of black silk and a bow. "Greetings, Onii-san."

"Hn." Kyoya stepped into the room to frown at the boys. "Stupid herbivores," he commented with disgust. "Masami is _not_ a herbivore."

"Hibari-san?" An older boy with gelled-up black hair and a twig in his mouth poked his head into the room. "Is there a...problem...?" He trailed off, staring blankly at Masami and then at Kyoya, evidently more intelligent than the herbivores she had just defeated.

"Who's this, Onii-san?" she asked, unperturbed by the slight choking sound that followed. To put it lightly, her brother wasn't the most open of people, had probably never even mentioned a sister before, so similarities or not, it was most likely a shock.

"Masami, this is Kusakabe Tetsuya," Kyoya said curtly, prodding one of the herbivores with a none-too-gentle boot and scowling when there was a pained groan in response. "Tetsuya, this is Masami, my younger sister."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Kusakabe-san," Masami said, flowing into another bow. "Please, call me Masami." To hold off on the confusion of _which_ Hibari he was addressing.

"O-Of course. It's an honor to meet you, Masami-san," Tetsuya said, the faintest traces of awe in his voice as he bowed back deeply. She assumed he was her brother's partner in crime, if not friend.

"Y-You faggot!" the third student, surprisingly still conscious, gritted out harshly, glaring for all his worth. Which...wasn't much. It was kind of pathetic, really.

A swift strike from a tonfa was quick to shut him up.

Yumiko-sensei never did quite figure out what all the yelling had been about. When she got there, the teacher found Masami peacefully reading her book, the bodies having been taken away by the boys not long ago.

She frowned and was met with guileless gray eyes. "Sensei? Is everything alright?" Masami asked, tilting her head to the side.

Yumiko resisted the urge to squeal. She was so adorable! And wonderful, too; the only one in her class that was perfectly well-behaved at all times, even if Yumiko did have plans to contact the girl's parents about her apparent unwillingness to socialize with classmates of her age.

"Not at all, sweetheart," Yumiko said with a smile and went off to brag to the other teachers.

Masami smiled and went back to reading about rainstorms.

* * *

Otou-san nodded silently and went off to find Okaa-san when Masami told him about her day that afternoon, showing no concern over the little incident, or unbeknownst to the children, the phone calls she'd received earlier in the day.

Masami just shrugged and prepared some tea. She was gaining a preference for black tea, although green wasn't so bad.

However, later that night, both Okaa-san and Otou-san—who were both home at the same time for the first time in the past eleven months—informed Masami and Kyoya that they were expected in the sitting room, for about the first time...ever.

Masami settled onto the unoccupied position beside her brother and stared across at her parents with considering eyes. What was going on? Was she in trouble for some reason? Was Onii-san in trouble? Had something happened?

Otou-san was the one to drop the bomb. "Kyoya, Masami, it's time for Rika and I to leave."

...wait, what?

"What do you mean, Otou-san?" Kyoya narrowed his eyes, frowning. He didn't like surprises.

"It's simple," Okaa-san said, taking a sip of her tea. "You and Masami are both in school now. You know how to take care of yourselves—the incident today proves that. There is no need for us to coddle you two anymore."

Masami struggled to keep her composure, knowing her mother would be disappointed in her if she abruptly started throwing confused questions at them, despite her (understandable) dismay at this uncalled for curveball. "Where are you going?"

"Wherever our work takes us," Otou-san said sedately. Reaching into the small bag he had set on the table, he retrieved two cellphones. "We have programmed our emergency numbers into these phones. If you need to reach us, you know how."

"Money will not be an issue." Okaa-san put her teacup down, leveling her children with a steely gaze. "Masami, I've taken you shopping before; you know what you need to buy. Should there be any problems, ask Kyoya."

Their parents were leaving. It would only be Kyoya and Masami left in their ancestral home. If they were to require help, they would receive none. If they got in trouble, they would have to get themselves out of it. They would be near fully independent, and that—

"Will you ever come back?" Masami asked softly, finding, to her own surprise, that once she thought about it, living alone with Onii-san wasn't nearly as scary as it probably should be. Their parents had been pulling away in small increments for a long time now.

"Yes. But only when we have the time and leisure, so don't count on it," Otou-san warned, sipping at his tea as if nothing was wrong.

And nothing really _was._

"We'll be fine," Kyoya said firmly, no room for doubt in his voice. "You are leaving tonight?"

"That's correct." Nodding sharply, Okaa-san rose to her feet with the liquid-like grace that Masami hadn't yet achieved. "Do not disappoint us," she ordered, a sentiment clearly echoed by their father.

Masami dipped her head in consent while Kyoya scowled but nodded back. "Safe traveling, Okaa-san, Otou-san," she said quietly.

Rika vanished into the night without another word.

Otou-san stood up as well but spared the time to hug his children briefly. Masami returned the gesture, and though Kyoya tensed, he didn't push his father away.

In comparison to Okaa-san, Otou-san had always been the more affectionate one.

"Take care of each other," Satoshi said and then was gone himself.

Kyoya and Masami glanced at each other. It was official; they were on their own.

"Shall we dance?" she offered, flipping her fan in the air.

He smirked and led the way to the sparring room.

* * *

A year passed in relative peace, the two children gradually learning and adapting to their new situation. It wasn't particularly difficult. They had been well-prepared, after all, even if they hadn't been aware of it at the time.

As Rika had suggested, Masami took care of the general shopping. The regulars in the grocery store grew used to Masami wandering down this aisle or that and became fond of her, frequently offering assistance with choosing produce. She accepted graciously each time, of course.

The taxes were dealt with by Satoshi whenever the time came, so Kyoya came to view the required cleaning of the house as training. He set a goal for himself, one hour max, and made certain that their home was spotless in the allotted time. It was surprisingly effective.

Sweeping might be Kyoya's job, but laundry was Masami's. Her culinary skill had far surpassed her brother's, hence, Masami made all the meals. Accordingly, Kyoya did the dishes. They split the chores, kept an eye on each other, but didn't bother to try and give any orders.

That would have been pointless; neither of them had a personality that liked restraint.

Luckily, with their combined combat training, no one dared to question the validity of two children, one six and one eight, living alone, especially since they were Hibaris. Not that it would have changed anything, but avoiding trouble was all good and well.

Okaa-san had come back once—to teach them how to hide dead bodies—and Otou-san had come back twice—to drill them on Mafia Politics—but Masami liked to think they were doing fairly well by themselves.

But now she was in first grade and he was in third grade, and Onii-san wanted to expand his patrols.

Masami blinked at Kyoya over the chabudai. "You want to start patrolling the whole of Namimori?" Before and after school, apparently.

"Why not?" he reasoned. "This town is Hibari territory—our house was one of the first to be constructed on this land. It is my duty." And Kyoya took duty seriously.

She frowned, tilting her head to the side pensively. Masami knew her brother; he might listen to her on occasion, but if he really wanted to do something, he would, regardless of her thoughts on the matter.

So. She was somehow involved in this plan, too.

"And me?" Masami could hold her own against Kyoya for thirty minutes before exhaustion tripped her up, but he could be overprotective. With some reason perhaps—there had been four more incidents at school—but still.

It wasn't as if any of those incidents had amounted to anything but broken dance partners.

A flash of something that could have been approval flickered across his eyes. Masami saw it sometimes when they were training and she got a good blow in, a rarity that was becoming more and more common these days. "You're coming with me."

She thought about it and shrugged; training then. Stamina, discipline, surveillance, and time with her brother. All good things. "Okay," Masami agreed easily.

And that was that.

Every morning, at sunrise, Onii-san would wake Masami up, and she would make them breakfast. They would meet up with Tetsuya—who had finally started calling Onii-san "Kyoya-san" to further dissuade a misunderstanding—and they would inspect the streets of Namimori.

If they caught someone doing something against the rules—i.e. crowding, littering, bullying, shouting, etc.—Kyoya would bite them to death, Tetsuya would lug them to a safe location afterward, and Masami would watch calmly. Then, they would go to school.

The same thing occurred after school, but ended with the three separating at sunset so Tetsuya could get home and Masami and Kyoya could eat dinner.

Another year passed with Kyoya gifting Masami a pretty white tessen with chromoly steel black foils that mirrored her gunsen on her birthday. A tessen was sturdier than a gunsen, capable of bashing someone unconscious without much effort on her part. On the other hand, a gunsen was lighter, much better at slashing, so they made a good pair.

Masami was delighted, as the following night's hamburger steak proved. When his birthday came around on May 5th, her gift was a new pair of tonfa, this one with sides that included cruel-looking spikes and hooks and ends that released flails.

Onii-san brought home dango the next day. Momentarily, she wondered if it said something about their family that weapons, books on martial arts, and new techniques were the norm for gifts. Probably, but she didn't mind, so Masami let things be.

Tetsuya gave Masami a flower kanzashi with a sharpened end on her birthday and Kyoya a cashmere sweater for his. When his birthday arrived, Masami baked him a three-tier cake and Kyoya silently handed him a stun gun. They were tactful enough not to mention the tears in the older boy's eyes before he wiped them away.

And then it was time for summer break.

* * *

The Hibaris had a vast garden behind their house, with colorful Japanese maple trees and lush bamboo, towering pine trees over a clear cerulean pond filled with koi and surrounded by vibrant azaleas, a designated rock garden not far away.

It was normally Masami who raked the rock garden when the mood was upon her, but Kyoya occasionally pitched in when he was bored and had nothing else to do. She was no master gardener, but she had learned enough from her mother to take care of the garden when needed.

Sometimes, on the nice, cloudy, windy days when the sky was bright blue and the sun was gracious, the siblings liked to take a nap outside, mostly with Kyoya using his jacket as a pillow and Masami curled up next to her big brother. It was a lazy, hazy method of dwindling the hours away.

But when it stormed...

Masami danced on the damp ground on bare feet, her blue yukata completely soaked through. Her loose dark hair, long enough to reach the small of her back now, stuck to her neck, heavy with rain. She closed her eyes, navigating her way through pure instinct, the moss soft and springy underneath her feet.

The wind lashed, laughing, and the new maple tree leaves waved, drops of water sliding smoothly off of the surface to fall into the disturbed pond. She swayed and moved to the beat of her heart, to the rhythm of the summer shower, to the melody of nature.

"You're going to catch a cold," Kyoya said neutrally from where he was sitting on the engawa in a black kinagashi, shielded from the rain by the roof to view the world from beyond a curtain of sheer water, the thunder that boomed across the sky not warranting so much as a flinch from the boy.

It smelled like ozone and life and beauty.

Masami smiled and tilted her head up so the torrent could fall directly on her face, easily avoiding all the sharp, slipping rocks beneath foot, fans cutting gleefully through the pathways of countless raindrops. "It's alright, Onii-san." Lightning sparked, brilliant and dazzling, a jagged arrow in the darkened skies.

She laughed.

There was a special... _wildness_ that ran in their family, the sort of thing that was always known by all and spoken out loud by none. Hibaris did as they wished, went wherever they wanted, proud and unyielding and fierce. They had their own kind of honor, moral, code, and they stood by it.

(Later, she would learn that this was due to the Cloud and Storm Flames that lingering in their blood.)

Kyoya and Masami had both inherited that wildness. The urge to run with the wind, drift along the open roads, follow no rules but the ones that they had created themselves. It was an insatiable wanderlust, unreasonable restlessness, coiled energy that begged to be released.

Kyoya conducted his fervor through the thrill of the fight. He could let loose when faced with the give and return of blows, the pump of blood and the pounding of hearts, the gratification of laying an enemy low before him, the satisfaction of a good, knock-down, drag-out spar.

Masami found her own freedom in the dance, although she enjoyed battle, especially since favorable fights _were_ dances. In the rush of exhilaration as feet touched the ground only to rise again as if flying, in the easy harmony between body and music, in music and movement.

So, in the rain, while thunder and lightning entwined like lovers far above, Masami danced in the storm, and Kyoya watched silently.

* * *

It was back to school again soon enough.

'Boring,' was Masami's continued one and only assessment of her class. When she wasn't patrolling with Onii-san and Kusakabe-san, she was reading and with the initial boost from her father, most of her classes were terribly tedious.

Suppressing a sigh, she discreetly retrieved a paper from under her binder. It was the school registry. This one was on the fifth graders, still warm from when she had printed it out from the library fifteen minutes ago. Sliding it between the pages of her book, she proceeded to study silently.

It wasn't as if she didn't know how to add and subtract two-digit numbers.

After memorizing all the data on the class of 2-A, Masami leaned back and decided to analyze her classmates instead. There really was nothing else to do, and it was a good mental exercise that Okaa-san had encouraged.

Let's see...her eyes landed on short golden brown hair. Sasagawa Kyoko was quite popular in their class, known to be kind and carefree, with an older brother, Sasagawa Ryohei, a loud boxer who loved to give Onii-san trouble.

The friend she was whispering to was Kurokawa Hana, moderately more observant and suspicious than the rest of their classmates with a sharp tongue and a temper to go along with it.

Behind Hana was Yamamoto Takeshi, a budding baseball player with a perpetual smile on his face and an easy-going attitude. His grades were somewhat below average though his sports prowess was beginning to attract notice.

Letting her gaze drift, Masami named details and specifics on each of her classmates, eventually arriving on a boy with gravity-defying brown hair in the very back, huddled in on himself with a confused look in his brown eyes.

Sawada Tsunayoshi, she thought with an inward sigh. Masami remembered the boy from before, but sadly, he hadn't improved like she had believed. Constantly bullied, an average student at best, abysmal at sports...the list went on.

As far as she was aware, he had no friends.

While not quite as much of a loner as her brother was—she could, at least, _tolerate_ stupid "herbivores" and "crowding"—Masami was in no way a social butterfly herself. Generally alone, except for lunch when she joined Onii-san and Kusakabe-san on the rooftop, Masami kept to herself, polite when talked to but pointedly distant and aloof.

If her brother _hadn't_ been The Hibari Kyoya, there most likely would have been more attempts at friendship and pointed talks from teachers, but he was and everyone knew of his ever-growing reputation. Mostly, they were just relieved that his sister wouldn't "bite them to death" for arriving in class two seconds after the bell.

Though, sometimes when she was particularly bored, she was tempted. It would be so _easy_...

But that wasn't good for her stellar student image now, was it? With her grades and manners—that had been quite literally beaten into her, mind you—the teachers considered her an angel in disguise in a classroom of devils.

Albeit, somehow, that very same angel had a demon of a brother that she hung around on a regular basis. Oh well, they figured, no one was perfect, not even little, pretty cherubs.

Since Okaa-san had made it clear that a good reputation and positive assumptions were advantages—a bad reputation had its uses, too, but good ones were best—Masami did her best to encourage that view discreetly.

No one expected an angel to set the world on fire after all.

* * *

The year after that—because time passed very, very quickly when you weren't looking—there was a fight with a bunch of delinquents that got out of hand. They had been harassing a poor store owner with graffiti and threats, and Kyoya caught them red-handed soon enough.

It started with a crowd of them surrounding a ten-year-old Kyoya, armed with brass knuckles and smug looks, as if they thought _they_ could beat _him_ , as if strength in numbers was enough to even out the odds.

Kyoya scoffed—there wasn't a chance in hell. The difference between herbivores and carnivores were far too vast to be bridged so simply.

"Vandalism and harassment will not be tolerated," he said coldly, tonfa at the ready. "You will all be bitten to death."

"Tch, who do you think you are?!" one of the yakuza shouted belligerently. "Let's teach him a lesson, guys!"

And they, being the stupid herbivores that they were, charged with loud, annoying cries.

Kyoya scoffed and threw himself into the heat of the battle. It was instinctive, the dodging of strikes, the returning blows, the steps and moves, like the dance his sister called it. Blood dripped to the ground, the scent of iron heavy in the air, pained cries of no concern of his, a pair of steel gray eyes right in front of him—

He hissed angrily, twisting to the side at the last moment. His tonfa hit her tessen sparsely and was promptly directed to a wall that crumbled under the blow. Yanking the tonfa back, Kyoya stared at his little sister.

Masami was familiar enough with his attacks that she hadn't faltered under the brutal strength of it, meeting his eyes squarely. There was no regret, no hesitation, only cool reason and simple pragmatism.

"Masami, _what are you doing!?_ " Kyoya barked, incensed, infuriated, heart rate increasing without conscious control. He could have _hurt_ her; that was meant to be the finishing blow to one of the pathetic herbivores.

"I think that's enough, Onii-san," Masami said quietly but firmly. She stood ramrod straight in front of the pile of bloodied delinquents, her loose cerulean yukata sufficient combat attire should it be necessary.

Which it absolutely shouldn't. He frowned at her darkly, eyes narrowing in clear warning. "Get _out_ of my way. The herbivores must be bitten to death for disrupting the peace of Namimori."

"Look at them, Onii-san." She didn't step aside as she should but raised her hand to gesture with her fan towards his fallen enemies. "They've already been punished. Any further and they'll be maimed or dead."

One of the still conscious herbivores whimpered at the last part, but they both ignored him.

Kyoya scowled. "It doesn't matter," he decided coolly, lifting up his tonfa once more. "If they die, it'll simply mean they'll never again be a nuisance."

Masami didn't flinch as the herbivores did, but stood her ground and shook her head, lingering strands of black hair flying in the air. "Murderers are against the law, too," she said. "If you kill, the police won't be lenient."

That was...true.

Kyoya thought about it, the tension a humming, live wire between them. He glanced at the delinquents, at his tonfa, at Masami. At the consequences in her tone, at the quiet resolve in those identical gray eyes, at the tessen in her hand.

He didn't want to fight his sister. Not like this.

He reined in his bloodlust and put his tonfa away.

Masami smiled. "Thank you, Onii-san." Turning to Tetsuya, who'd lingered in the background anxiously and had doubtlessly been the one to fetch the dancer from the bookstore in the first place, she advised, "Call the ambulance."

The older boy nodded and dug out his phone, punching in the numbers while Masami turned at last to look at the weak herbivores she'd saved. Regarding them for a moment, fan held in front of her face, she shook her head again.

"There's a sushi store three blocks down we have never visited," she announced, stepping to Kyoya's side lithely. "I would like to investigate, Onii-san, Kusakabe-san."

"Hn." Spinning on his heel, Kyoya walked out of the back alley he had cornered the herbivores in, perfectly aware of Masami's muted footsteps and Tetsuya's heavier tread as they followed him.

When his sister handed him a silk handkerchief silently, he cleaned the blood off of his tonfa and put them away. Abruptly catching sight of the black case she held in her hand, he inquired, "What did you buy?"

"A pair of reading glasses," she answered idly as if the previous incident had never occurred.

Kyoya narrowed his eyes. "Your sight?" While far from participating heart to heart talks every week, the siblings did make a point to share important information with each other, but Masami had made no mention of this.

"Far sighted, just a bit," Masami said, clearly unconcerned. "The optometrist was of the opinion that, other than reading, I would be fine without glasses on a daily basis."

He nodded curtly and let the subject go.

The food at TakeSushi wasn't half-bad.

* * *

When Sasagawa Kyoko was nine years old, she was partnered up with Hibari Masami for a science project.

She had always been aware of the other girl, of course. Everyone was. The little sister of the famed Hibari Kyoya, Masami was _the_ teacher's pet—who no one dared to call out—incredibly polite, and while not exactly mean or scary, put on a pedestal by just about everyone in the school.

Or, at least, that was what Kyoko heard. Rumors weren't very reliable in fourth grade—or in any grade, come to think of it—but rumors, she reasoned, must have _some_ sort of beginning.

Needless to say, she couldn't help but be slightly nervous when it came to actually approaching Masami after they were dismissed by their teacher. There was honestly no telling what the other girl would do; she was terribly unpredictable.

"Stop worrying about it," was the advice her best friend, Hana, offered. "She's just another classmate, strict brother or not. It's not she'll _do_ anything to you. And besides, you have that violent big brother to protect you, don't you?"

"Hana!" Kyoko protested vehemently. "Don't call Nii-chan that! He's promised me he'll try and avoid fighting from now on anyway." She hated it when her brother got hurt.

"Yeah, yeah." Hana rolled her eyes. "We'll see how long that lasts. Now go and talk to your partner. Dawdling about isn't going to change anything."

Kyoko winced but knew that Hana was right in that blunt way of hers. Taking a deep breath and squaring her shoulders, she wove around the students planning out their projects to the desk on the right corner, backed on two sides by a wall and a window.

Masami was flipping through her textbook, face unreadable. She really was quite pretty, Kyoko thought. If she put in the effort, her classmate could probably become one of the popular kids. But she doubted her quiet, indifferent classmate cared about _that._

Glancing up at that very instant, Masami assessed Kyoko with a flick of keen gray eyes and nodded, smiling faintly. "Sasagawa-san. It's a pleasure to work with you," she said in a warm alto voice.

Somewhat taken back, Kyoko swiftly regained her composure and smiled back brightly, chirping, "It's wonderful to work with you as well, Hibari-san!" If nothing else, her classmate was very smart.

"Please call me Masami," she requested mildly.

Kyoko lit up, relieved. It looked like her new partner wasn't so bad, after all. "Of course!" Opening her mouth to suggest the favor be returned, Kyoko thought of how formal Masami was and reconsidered quietly. Maybe after they knew each other better.

Dumping her stuff on a nearby desk instead, Kyoko dragged the chair over to make working with Masami easier. "So, shall we start?"

"I believe we shall."

* * *

Thankfully, Masami discovered that Kyoko, while honey-sweet to the point of making her head hurt, was not that bad of a partner. She knew how to research well and did her share of the work, despite seeming to not know the value of silence.

It was a tad disconcerting for Masami who generally spent time with Kyoya, who was far from verbose, and Tetsuya, who was a boy of few words himself, but she rapidly readjusted to listening to all of the gossip in their school.

Masami had never particularly been interested in such things, but Okaa-san had taught her how to recognize a profitable informant when she saw one. It helped that Kyoko was much beloved in their school. People told her all _sorts_ of things without any prompting.

After finishing their project with a ninety-five percent—adequate—Masami realized that Kyoko truly was too friendly for her own good. The other girl had somehow gotten it into her head that Masami was a nice, sweet girl who was simply misunderstood.

Masami didn't know _how_ it had happened, but eventually relented enough to keep a casual acquaintance with Kyoko after two weeks of cheerfully attempted conversations. An informant was an informant. At least Kyoko never tried to get Masami to join her group for lunch.

Disregarding how very noisy she had observed that crowd to be, Kyoya would have drawn the line at that. And while Kyoko's cheerful, unrelenting chatter could be annoying at times, Masami would rather not see her absent-minded classmate being hunted down by her brother.

Through her interactions with Kyoko, Masami gradually grew to know Kurokawa Hana as well. To her relief, Hana wasn't as overbearingly bubbly as Kyoko was, but possessed a dry wit and a wry sense of humor. Since Hana was sharp enough to keep up with Masami, Masami could put up with Hana.

And at the end of that year, Kyoya and Tetsuya graduated.

Masami couldn't say she was very thrilled about that.

* * *

"Namimori Middle then?" Masami asked during lunch in the last month of school, sitting in seiza on a zabuton she had placed on the rooftop.

"Yes. I will create a disciplinary committee," Kyoya stated, lounging on the bench with the bento she had thrown together that morning. "Tetsuya will be its first member."

"Who else?" Knowing her brother, all the problems would be solved with violence, meaning members who knew how to fight was a must-have.

Kyoya paused and gave her a _look_.

Oh, right. Onii-san didn't deign to give pathetic herbivores his attention. Why on Earth would he have any idea about potential members beyond their small group? As soon as she graduated, Masami would doubtlessly be a part of this committee, but that was two years away.

And a committee needed more than two people.

"Onii-san, do you remember that group of delinquents you danced with all those years back?" she questioned tepidly. Masami had certainly seen them around, lurking in the shadows before a sharp look or a beating from Kyoya sent them running.

She was fairly certain she had seen stars in their eyes a few times.

He nodded, chewing on some teriyaki.

"Why don't you go and recruit them for your committee? They know how to fight, they fear and respect you; they would be good subordinates with a few rounds of training." That her brother would dish out with bucketfuls of pain.

Kyoya deliberated the idea for the rest of lunch while Masami and Tetsuya waited patiently. At length, he said, "Tetsuya, you know where these herbivores crowd?"

"Hai." The older boy's job was to keep an eye out and an ear to the ground, especially of the herbivores that Kyoya had already bitten to death. He also knew of the local yakuza gang and dealt with the police when necessary.

Kyoya nodded and stood up, dumping his lunch in a nearby recycling can. "After school."

* * *

Kyoya's idea of recruiting was to storm into the base, startle the delinquents out of their wits, and demand they join his committee or be bitten to death. Again.

Sweatdropping, Tetsuya cast a desperate look at his leader's sister, only to find her covering a smile with her black fan. Evidently, she would be of no help in this situation, though should it come to a fight, she'd at least be able to keep Kyoya from going too far.

But for now...

Tetsuya sighed and stepped forward, holding a clipboard and drawing the attention of the terrified delinquents to him. "Alright, everyone interested over here! I'm going to be taking names and then I'll help register you lot with Namimori Middle."

...he really had no clue how the delinquents suddenly got it into their minds that he was their Savior and ended up copying his hairstyle to display their eternal gratitude.

Granted, Tetsuya should have known better than to ask the Hibari siblings for explanations. Kyoya merely shrugged indifferently, and Masami giggled from behind her fan.

"Just accept it, Kusakabe-san," she recommended. "It won't go away anytime soon." People believed what they liked to believe, regardless of any evidence to the contrary.

For God's sake, the teachers at Namimori Elementary _still_ believed she was a dear who could do no wrong, despite the fact that her dear classmates were all afraid of her, with the exception of Kyoko and Hana.

Tetsuya groaned and went off to write up training schedules. Kyoya had _high_ standards, nigh-impossible standards, and if these ex-delinquents didn't reach those standards, they would be bitten to death.

* * *

Two weeks into the summer, Masami opened the door to see a baby on her step. She paused, taking in the black braided hair, red clothes and pacifier, as well as the heavy sense of power that clung to him. There was even a sleeping monkey curled around the back of his neck.

This was no ordinary baby, that was for sure. As for who...she had a notion, but best to confirm it.

"Greetings," she said, dipping into a bow because her mother hadn't raised her to be rude. "My name is Hibari Masami. Who might you be?"

He smiled politely, bowing back. "I am Fon, your granduncle. It's a pleasure to meet you, Masami."

Ah. She sighed inwardly; that was who she'd thought he might have been. She had never actually met him before, although she knew he had visited before she was born. Outwardly, she smiled and stepped back. "Please, come in, Fon-san. There is tea waiting on the table."

Fon nodded and was soon seated on a zabuton in her sitting room. "It has been a while since I've enjoyed tea in this room," he mused, hands wrapped around his hot teacup. "This is delicious, Masami."

She smiled lightly in acknowledgment. "Thank you, Fon-san." Refilling his cup when he finished, she inquired delicately, "What brings you here from China?" Her granduncle, she knew, was of the Chinese Triads.

"I was completing a job in Okinawa and thought I should drop by," Fon said evenly. "Rika and Satoshi have told me many good things about you and your brother. Speaking of Kyoya, where is he?"

"Overlooking remedial school," Masami explained. "He keeps the students under control." She would have been with him, but had decided that she wanted to spend this summer at home rather than under the hot, scorching sun; she sunburned easily.

Kyoya hadn't exactly agreed despite her tenth birthday having passed months ago, so they had ended up striking a bargain. If she could dance against him for an hour without faltering, then she was strong enough to be on her own.

A sweaty and sore Masami had won the deal after a truly intense dance that lasted one hour and twenty minutes, even though she'd technically lost the match, hence why she was home alone. It was just as well.

Kyoya disapproved of the Chinese Triads.

"I see." A peaceful pause while thoughtful eyes analyzed Masami. "Your brother doesn't like me, does he?"

She chose her words carefully, hiding her unease at being read so effortlessly. "He does not like your employers. Onii-san does not know you."

"But in his mind, there is little difference," Fon concluded gently.

Masami sipped her tea and said, "Will you stay the night, Fon-san?" Assuming her brother didn't kick him out the second he returned home.

The Storm Arcobaleno smiled and shook his head, flowing to his small feet. "I came to visit my grandniece and grandnephew. Thank you for the hospitality, Masami. I think I'll go and swing by the school on my way out."

She smiled back serenely and rose as well to see him out the door, bowing gracefully. "Best of luck, Fon-san."

Four hours later, Masami watched tranquilly as Kyoya arrived back home, face pinched and body rigid. He stared at her with dark, dark eyes. "Masami."

"We talked over tea," she said, flipping through a book on Switzerland. "He's not so bad, Onii-san."

"He's with the Chinese Triads," he rebuked as if that explained everything. In Kyoya's world, it probably did.

Masami merely sighed. "Please, eat your hamburger steak, Onii-san."

* * *

With Kyoya and Tetsuya gone from Namimori Elementary School, some things changed and some things stayed the same. As it was an _elementary_ school, the rule breaking rose, as was expected, but it wasn't drastic.

It wasn't as if there was fighting in the hallways all day.

But now students could be late by a few minutes without the risk of being bitten to death. They could slack off and occasionally litter. Masami wasn't Kyoya—she didn't particularly care if some trash never made it to the trash cans.

However, with her brother and their friend gone, she had the rooftop all to herself and the quiet was stifling in a way it had never been before.

Kyoko offered her companionship, of course, but Masami didn't like the rambunctious activities of the cheerful girl's friends either. Hana was the one who'd finally hissed in Kyoko's ear to stop pestering Masami, as she had been becoming mildly annoyed.

Masami eventually took to wandering the halls during lunch, testing her knowledge of the students and her own grace in weaving between the many bodies crowding the school without brushing against a single one of them.

It was on one such stroll that she re-encountered Sawada Tsunayoshi.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OpalescentGold: The Hibari family is very traditional, very old, and very strict. Also, they have a certain penchant for violence and (sometimes) wanton destruction. Their children inherit their ways, and thus, very strange characters are born. XD
> 
> Seriously, these two as children are scary. Just imagine what they'll be like when they grow up...
> 
> Of course, many, many thanks to my wonderful betas! Please leave a review and feel free to follow me on [tumblr](https://opalescentgold.tumblr.com/)!~
> 
> Chabudai: tables with short legs, used in conjunction with zabuton when eating as a family.
> 
> Fusuma: sliding panels that act as doors and walls.
> 
> Futon: thin bedding meant for sleeping
> 
> Genkan: main entrance to a house.
> 
> Ikebana: the art of flower arrangement.
> 
> Seiza: formal way of sitting, kneeling with legs folded underneath.
> 
> Shamisen: three-stringed musical instrument.
> 
> Shodo: the art of calligraphy.
> 
> Tatami: mat floors traditionally made of rice straw.
> 
> Tessenjutsu: martial art of the war fan.
> 
> Uchiwa: flat-faced fans.
> 
> Zabuton: thin pillows used as cushions to sit on.
> 
> Zhuazhou: Chinese tradition on a child's first birthday; the parents place an assortment of items in front of their child and what the child chooses is said to determine their future inclinations and capabilities.


	2. Foxtrot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OpalescentGold: I do not own Katekyo Hitman Reborn.

_Foxtrot: a ballroom dance in 4/4 time, with alternation of two slow and two quick steps._

* * *

Sawada Tsunayoshi knew he was Dame. It was rather obvious, in fact.

He got terrible grades, he was horrible at sports, and he had zero friends. Even Nana, his _mother,_ didn't believe he would ever be much of anything, and if that didn't say something, what did?

Which was why he wasn't in the least surprised when, not two months into fifth grade, the bullying was so bad he was running through the halls at top speed, clinging desperately to his lunch.

"Get back here, Dame-Tsuna!" his current tormentor yelled, right behind him with a bunch of his lackeys. "Don't be a coward on top of being stupid, pathetic, and idiotic!"

"N-No!" Tsuna shouted back defiantly and promptly tripped. "Ow!" Sprawling hard on the ground, bento in hand, he rubbed at the large bump on his head and gulped when the bullies loomed over him with creepy smirks.

"We've got you now!" Fukao Shoda, the school bully, smirked wickedly, holding out a meaty hand. "Well, Dame-Tsuna? Give me your lunch now and maybe I'll go easy on you later."

Tsuna grimaced, scrambling backward until he hit a wall. Darn it, dead end. But this was the delicious lunch his mom had taken the time to prepare for him... "Go a-away, S-Shoda!"

A vein popped on the senior's forehead. "Huh? What was that?!" He cracked his knuckles threateningly, his friends crowding around Tsuna in a half circle. "Guys, I think Dame-Tsuna needs some reminders on who's in charge here!"

"Right!" they yelled enthusiastically, grinning toothily as fists raised. "You're not going to forget this, Dame-Tsuna!"

Tsuna could only wince and raise his arms over his head. He hoped this would be over quickly. There was still that science test he needed to study for—he'd only gotten ten percent on the last one—and he'd wanted to see Kyoko-chan today...!

"Excuse me," a soft, feminine voice cut in, right before the first blow would have landed, "Is there something wrong here?"

Shoda froze and spun on his heel while his friends began panicking, arms waving wildly in the air. "A-Ah! M-Masami-san! I-I didn't see you there!" he exclaimed anxiously, rubbing the back of his head with a timid laugh.

Tsuna's eyes popped out, his heart skipping a beat. There was only _one_ Masami he knew in the entire school that would make someone like Fukao Shada nervous, and that was...that was. Oh, God. Leaning his body to the side, he peered past Shoda and swallowed hard.

Long sable hair twisted into an elaborate hairstyle with delicate kanzashi, several strands left to brush over her pale skin, Hibari Masami cut an imposingly elegant figure with her unimpressed gray eyes and ornate white fan.

Speaking of... Tsuna furrowed his brow. Hadn't the one she'd been waving around last week black? He went out of his way to avoid Masami, but no one could ignore the folding fans she casually brought out in class to cool herself with.

None of the teachers ever called her out on it either.

"D-Don't worry! N-Nothing's w-wrong, Masami-san!" Shoda scrambled to reassure The Hibari Kyoya's sister, beads of sweat dripping down his face. "W-We just wanted to, uhh..."

"We w-wanted to e-eat lunch with Dame-Tsuna here!" Takiji, one of his friends, piped up, grabbing Tsuna by the shoulders and holding him in front of the bully as a human defense.

"Yeah! A-And give him a-advice from us upperclassmen, right, boys?" Shoda looked around frantically, glaring when his friends all froze up. " _Right_ , boys?!"

"Urm..." Tsuna hung weakly from Takiji's hold and wondered how on Earth this was his life. His bento was still in his hands, too.

"Right!" the lackeys chorused, shying away from the petite girl to huddle together behind their fearless leader who wouldn't actually be able to do anything if Masami seriously took offense and informed her fearsome brother.

One slender black eyebrow rose with a hint of doubt, but Masami merely smiled angelically and nodded in acceptance. "I see. Helping a fellow student is a gracious act, Fukao-san, but I'd like Sawada-san to eat with me today."

...HIIIIIIIEEEEEE!?

Tsuna's jaw dropped to the floor while Shoda nodded frantically, probably spraining his neck along the way. "O-Of course, M-Masami-san! I-I'll leave you t-two to it!" And with that, the crowd scattered, leaving trails of dust.

Tsuna fell to the floor for the second time that day with a muffled cry.

"Oww..." Whimpering, Tsuna sat up and dared to look up at Masami. This didn't make sense at all! Disregarding why she would know their names in the first place, _she_ wanted to eat with _him_?! They'd never even talked before!

Masami's face was utterly unreadable, the fan she held over the bottom half of it not helping matters. Those eyes, though...those eyes...

Tsuna drooped miserably. He was being _judged_. And found lacking, no doubt. He always was.

"Sawada-san." The sound of the fan being snapped shut was loud in the silence, the clack of her heeled shoes gentle on the floor. "Come with me please."

The words were coached in a very polite way, but Tsuna knew that he was being ordered. "H-Hai!" Fearing for his very life, he scurried up and tip-toed after his intimidating classmate.

The worst thing, he thought to himself as the students they passed began to whisper and gossip, was that Masami didn't _look_ or _act_ scary at all. Her every move was ballerina graceful, her reputation spotless.

She just _was_ frightening. Somehow.

Gliding up a staircase he'd never had the courage to investigate before, Masami pulled a door open and stepped out into the searing sunshine. Tsuna's eyes widened as he followed her. "T-This is the rooftop!"

He'd heard that there was a way for students to get to the rooftop, but he spent most of his time running from bullies so he hadn't really paid any attention to the rumors. That and people whispered it was where the Hibari siblings ate.

Well, Tsuna guessed there was some truth to that since Masami was the one who'd brought him here.

"Sawada-san."

"U-Uh, hai!" Head snapping up, Tsuna realized Masami had turned and was now looking at him. Hiiiieeee!

"If the other students are bothering you, you may eat lunch here," she allowed generously, seating herself on a nearby bench and removing a book from her bag. "They will not enter the rooftop."

' _That's because you're here..._ ' he thought with a sweatdrop. But, all things considered, Tsuna was pretty sure this was a good deal for him. At least, Masami wasn't interested in bullying him.

Probably because he was so weak, he wasn't at all a challenge for her.

"T-Thank you very much, H-Hibari-san!" Tsuna stuttered, bowing deeply.

"Please, call me Masami."

"H-Hai!"

And although Tsuna was tense the whole rest of lunch, waiting for a harsh strike or a scornful word, nothing happened really. He ate his lunch in silence and she read her book.

It was strange, but he found he didn't mind the quiet. It was nice, nicer than the normal jeers and taunts.

* * *

Masami had never truly bothered to pay attention in class before. There was no point; she got good grades and the teachers were happy to let her be while they focused on the numbskulls in the class.

But after yesterday's...encounter with Sawada Tsunayoshi, she reluctantly tuned into the world around her for three days. Reconnaissance was a vital element when observing a relatively unknown individual. What she learned was, quite frankly, pitiful.

Even by normal standards. Tetsuya had informed her once or twice that her own expectations could be, along with her brother's, sky-high and utterly impossible for anyone not superhuman.

In English:

"Sawada! What does this sentence say?"

"Er... the fire ran away...?"

"Wrong!"

"Dame-Tsuna..."

"He's such an idiot."

In Mathematics:

"Sawada! You failed again!"

"A-Ah! I'm sorry!"

"Hah, he got a twenty-two!"

"Dame-Tsuna failed!"

"That's no surprise."

In Physical Education:

"Tsuna, pass!"

"OOOF!"

"We lost again!"

"Dame-Tsuna, it's all your fault!"

"S-Sorry!"

At Lunch:

"Sawada-san." She had been somewhat surprised herself when Tsunayoshi scurried back onto the rooftop for the second time and continued returning. He acted so much like a mouse that she'd thought he would scamper away from the shadow of a potential predator at the first opportunity.

Perhaps he had more backbone than she'd assumed. Perhaps.

Regardless, this would be interesting. Although Masami had had no problems pushing herself to her limits in whatever she so chose, she had never tried to explore possibilities in someone else before. She wondered what she could make of this drowning boy once she pulled him out again and taught him how to swim.

Maybe she could fashion a pair of wings for him and see him soar.

"H-Hai?!" Though his stutter and nervousness were rather annoying. Admittedly, this was the first time she'd spoken up since this arrangement had come into place.

Masami crossed her legs and peered at her classmate over the edge of her fan. "...sit up please."

"Hiiiieee!" Tsunayoshi squeaked, staring at her with clear confusion even as he instinctively obeyed. Yes, that was better, she could almost see... "W-Why?"

"You slouch," she said calmly, airing herself lightly. "Hiding won't accomplish anything."

Tsunayoshi blushed crimson, looking down in embarrassment. "I know, b-but— "

"Please look people in the eye when you talk. If you don't respect yourself, no one will."

He scuffed his shoe on the ground, brown eyes dark. "Masami-san, it's okay, really. I'm used to it."

Masami considered that for a moment. Low self-confidence, unwillingness to change, so very crushed by this cruel world. This might take longer than she had originally planned. Now the question was: would it be worth it?

Well. With Kyoya and Tetsuya gone, she _had_ been bored lately. And she did enjoy a challenge.

"Then please become unused to it in my presence, Sawada-san," she demanded cordially. "I'm afraid I simply will not deal with anyone who is not the best of the best."

"But I'm not the best at anything!" he protested, waving his arms around like a headless chicken.

"You'll learn," Masami said, taking no notice of Tsunayoshi when he fell flat on his face onto the concrete in exasperation.

* * *

It was a lie, Tsuna screamed inside his head a bare week later, running for his life wildly, tears falling down his face in streams. It was all a lie! Masami's goodness, her perfect reputation—everything was a lie! His world was a lie!

' _God, where are you?!'_ he cried out, lifting his hands up in supplication. _'Save me, save me!'_ But there was no one here to rescue him from this torment as he slid into the finishing line, collapsing outright as his knees gave out.

"Fourteen minutes," recorded the being from hell, clicking her timer. "For one round around the school. It's a thirty-second improvement from yesterday. Well done, Sawada-san."

Tsuna knelt on the floor and prayed for deliverance, his sweat-soaked uniform sticking to his skin. Nana had been of the impression that he had been working out lately, and he had been too ashamed to tell her the truth:

He had been intimidated into working for a demon!

"Twenty push-ups, thirty sit-ups, forty squats, and fifty jumping jacks, please," Masami went right on entreating as if Tsuna wasn't already half dead from running the mile.

"B-B-B-But, Masami-san—!" he whimpered, barely able to get to his feet. "I can't do it!" She couldn't expect him to be able to perform a task just because she said "please," did she?!

"Thirty, forty, fifty, sixty." She did.

Tsuna cried harder. The worst thing about training—dying—under Masami's absolutely Spartan tutelage was that she never argued back. She just upped the ante on whatever exercise he was to perform next.

"Has there been any trouble with the bullies lately?" she inquired two minutes later while Tsuna was on his twentieth push up and close to collapsing. Masami acted like she didn't notice, even though he knew she was preternaturally aware of everything around her, preoccupied with reading her newest book.

"N-No..." he trailed off, gasping for breath, arms shaking tremulously. He wasn't going to be able to make it! He was going to die! There could be no worse hell than this! "Y-You ch-chased t-them all a-aw-away."

In fact, Masami hadn't even needed to do anything really. All she'd done was show up one day, walk down the corridor with Tsuna, and that was it. No one tried to bother him anymore. It was like having a secret guardian angel that he couldn't see but others could.

Such was the power of Hibari Masami!

Except, of course, Masami was no angel. No matter what the teachers and administrators thought. Nu-uh. Tsuna knew the truth and he was sticking with it!

"An advantageous outcome indeed," she mused now, brushing a strand of dark hair from her eyes. "And your math scores?"

Up, down, up down—he was at fifteen sit ups! "U-Um, uhh, that is..."

"Sawada-san, please talk coherently." Hidden in the lovely tones of her voice, Tsuna heard the threat of more torture and almost lost track of his sit ups.

"I got a forty-five on my last test!" he blurted out and followed up the confession with a wince. Nooo! He'd let the secret out! That meant even more running for him, no doubt!

There was a dangerous pause that Tsuna filled up with finishing his sit ups at hyper speed and moving on to squats. Ow, ow, ow. His muscles...but he could _feel_ her stare boring into the back of his skull. Oh, he was totally dead!

"...and are you satisfied with your score?" Masami asked at last, nothing at all readable in her voice. Tsuna bit his lower lip, not daring to look up from his squats. Was this a trick question?

"No...?"

"Are you answering me or asking me, Sawada-san?"

Oh no, his danger sense was flaring up! "No!" he shouted firmly.

"Then, in that case, feel free to answer these math problems while you do your jumping jacks."

"Hiiiieeee—!?" _While_ he did jumping jacks? His brain would explode!

Masami didn't bother to listen to his whining. "Let's get started immediately. The square root of sixty-four is...?"

* * *

"Nice outfit, Onii-san," Masami commented two months later. There was even a red armband. Sometimes, it amused her to see her brother flaunt the very school rules he endorsed so strictly and violently.

"This is the Disciplinary Committee uniform," he explained. "Tetsuya came up with the idea last week."

"Do you like it?" The clean lines and cool formality actually looked quite befitting on him, the gakuran jacket giving off an appropriately frightening feel, not that her brother needed the help.

"It's suitable," Kyoya admitted grudgingly. He halted, giving Masami a searching look. "I hear you've been seen in the company of a herbivore by the name of Sawada Tsunayoshi."

"You would be right," Masami confirmed without missing a beat, stirring the pork stew slowly.

"...why?" His tone made it obvious he saw no reason his sister should associate with such a boring, dull creature.

She hesitated and promptly berated herself for the slip. Her smile was serene. "Oh, I was bored."

"Hn." There was a beat while Kyoya pondered the problem and then evidently dismissed it as something not to be concerned with. It wasn't as if Masami went around trying to dictate who the prefect talked to. "Fine."

"Onii-san, why was there a decrease in our funds yesterday?" She added some salt and pepper, not particularly worried, but interested in the reason. Kyoya wasn't one to purchase unnecessarily expensive things.

"...I brought a motorcycle." Though items that interested him were game, apparently.

Masami blinked and turned her head to look at him. "A motorcycle? Do you know how to drive one?"

Kyoya shrugged. "I'll learn."

"Ah." She turned off the flame and ladled the soup into bowls. "Not near the school, please; there might be damage." And that would only anger him.

His look, though she didn't see it, asked why the hell she was telling him the obvious.

"...and after you've mastered driving, teach me," she added casually.

"Hamburger steak for Sunday."

Masami shrugged, drinking her tea. "Fine."

"Fine," Kyoya echoed, more interested in his soup.

* * *

Before school:

"Three laps around the school please, Sawada-san."

"Bu-But, Masami-san—!"

"Four."

Tsuna cried buckets of tears as he forced himself to run around the school, Masami observing from the rooftop, fanning herself lightly. "MASAMI-SAAAN!"

At lunch:

"Questions six, eight, nine, twelve, and sixteen are wrong. Fix it, please." She handed him back his math homework.

"I don't know how, Masami-san! I'm sorry, I can't do this! It's impossible!" Tsuna's shoulders fell, eyes lowering.

 _Whack!_ Getting hit by a war fan tended to hurt.

"Hiiiieeee!" Laid flat on the rooftop, he got up sluggishly, hands over the developing lump on his head. "Masami-san!"

"If you don't know how," Masami said from where she was sitting on the bench with her legs crossed, chin braced on her palm and furled fan twirling in the air, "then learn. Nothing is impossible."

Tsuna sniffed, rubbing away the tears in his eyes. "Y-You think I can?"

Her look was blatantly exasperated. "Haven't you understood yet, Sawada-san? I do not waste my time. Now, review your math textbook if you would, and revise your answers."

"HIIEEE!"

After school:

"Ahh!" A swift kick sent Tsuna flopping back onto the rooftop. "Ow, ow, ow..."

"You need to work on your footwork," Masami noted, not even slightly winded.

Groaning, he got back up, wincing at the twinge of pain that said he would have yet another bruise. "Is this really necessary, Masami-san!?"

"Of course. It's undignified to fight another's battle, so you must learn how to defend yourself," she lectured, waving her fan. "As you have no combat ability whatsoever, it falls on me to teach you."

"But I don't even want to fight!" Tsuna argued, rubbing half-heartedly at his abdomen. It didn't help that Masami was kicking his ass _without_ her fans, which he knew to be her primary weapons.

"That matters not. Willingly or not, there will be times in life where you _must_ fight, and it certainly would not do for you to be defenseless then, now would it?"

He grumbled and sighed and whined, but knew she was right and charged again. He was back in the dirt half a minute later.

"Please concentrate, Sawada-san."

* * *

"Neh, Masami-san?" Tsuna panted breathlessly, splayed out on the rooftop like a little kid trying to make a snow angel. His leg muscles burned from the running he'd done, and his heart was still pounding. He had a cramp, too.

Maybe five, now that he thought about it.

As always, Masami looked vexingly polished and relaxed on her bench, book in her lap and fan in hand. Tsuna was starting to think about bringing a miniature electric fan to school; it was so hot this month. Somehow, he was still pretty sure he would never look as put-together as she was.

"Yes, Sawada-san?" she answered without looking up, turning a page in her book.

"What are you reading?" he asked curiously. His classmate was always reading something while she "trained" him.

"Today?" Masami adjusted her reading glasses absently. Tsuna found it totally unfair that glasses only made her look more intelligent while it would probably make him look even more like a dork. "A book on Japanese history."

"History?" He didn't know she liked history. Actually, he didn't know much about her at all, now that he thought about it.

"That's correct. I find it a fascinating subject." A small, delighted smile curved her lips, for once not innocently sadistic or distantly polite.

Tsuna turned and propped himself up on his elbows, suddenly interested. This was the first time he had actually heard anything personal about Masami, even though he had been talking to her for months. "Really?"

"Mm-hm. Did you know how many people died in the Nanjing Massacre?" she asked, casual as could be.

"Urg..." Tsuna winced, turning a little green. "No...?

Masami was all too happy to enlighten him.

* * *

On a perfectly normal Sunday morning, while Masami was making some omelets for breakfast, a boy crashed through the ranma in a shatter of glass and landed behind her, creating a crater in the floor and destroying several tatami mats. It was a testament to the composure that Okaa-san had beaten into her that she didn't shriek outright.

Rather, Masami went very, very still, retrieving her tessen fan swiftly before turning and analyzing the situation with calm detachment. She shifted subtly into a combat position, stepping back a bit. With the amount of noise, Onii-san would be here in three to five minutes—he was a light sleeper.

"Whoo! This is Hibari's house, huh? How extreme!" A loud, male voice shouted from the bottom of the depression, the smoke clearing to reveal a boy with white hair around Kyoya's age in a jogging suit, beaming brightly despite the lump on his head.

"...Greetings," Masami said delicately with a bow, determinedly thrusting away her surprise, wariness, and pure outrage for silky aplomb. Her window. Her floor. Her _kitchen_. Her foot tapped lightly on the ground. "Who might you be?"

The stranger looked up at her in surprise before getting to his feet and bowing back, his grin widening even further, if at all possible. "Hello! I am Sasagawa Ryohei! Who are you?!"

"My name is Hibari Masami. I suppose you're here for my older brother, Hibari Kyoya?" She had certainly never seen this boy before though she knew of him as Kyoko's older brother and a boxing fanatic. He was certainly very...enthusiastic.

"That's right! I'm here to defeat him to the extreme!" Ryohei climbed out of the hole to pause and look Masami over, appearing a bit puzzled. "You know, I never knew Hibari had a younger sister!"

"Well, now you do," she replied with an icy smile. "Would you like some tea?" It was only polite. Perhaps she might even slip some poison into the drink in the meantime.

"That's not necessary, Masami," a familiar voice interrupted from the doorway. "Herbivore, what are you doing here?"

Ryohei perked up, spinning around to face Kyoya with a friendly grin. "Hibari! There you are! Oi, why haven't you told me you had a sister? We could have bonded over being older brothers!"

"There was no need," Onii-san said coolly, leaning against the wall in a black jinbei. "And I have no wish to associate with herbivores."

The boxer twitched, flames flaring in his eyes as he fell into a boxing stance. "What was that!? Come on, let's fight...to the extreme!"

Kyoya's eyes narrowed, his tonfa emerging in hand with a flicker of silver light. "That's fine with me. Trespassers will be bitten to death."

"Not in the kitchen please," Masami cut in sleekly, fanning herself with her fan, eyes frigid. "Also, please refrain from causing _property damage_ to my house the next time you come to visit, Sasagawa-san."

Ryohei just threw back his head and laughed. "Don't be mad, Hibari! It's for the purpose of an extreme fight!" His teeth sparkled. Actually sparkled.

Masami considered that. "You know, I have lunch with your sister sometimes."

It was rather satisfying, actually, to watch Ryohei's face go a few shades paler and his smile waver. "How extreme!" he shouted nonetheless, if a bit less exuberantly. "In that case, I'll make sure to knock on the door the next time I challenge Hibari to an extreme fight! Will that be okay with you, Hibari?"

"Please call me Masami," she said placidly, turning back to her omelets. "And that will be fine, should the 'door' turn out to be the front door. As for sparring, we do have a training room for a reason, Onii-san."

Kyoya narrowed his eyes, but turned sharply on his heel before his sister's wrath could be directed his way. "Come, herbivore. We have a biting to get to."

"Got it!" Ryohei gave Masami a thumbs-up, previous irritation disappearing. "See you later, Masami!"

That was going to become annoying, she noted to herself as she turned her attention back to her omelets, particularly since she was fairly certain Ryohei wasn't the type of give up on something. Anything. Especially when it came to combat and...boxing.

Sadly, since he wasn't at Onii-san's level—close, closer than anyone but Masami, but not _there_ —Ryohei would be defeated and the cycle would repeat. Shaking her head, she dialed the construction workers for the broken window.

Ten minutes later, just as Masami was setting up the plates, Kyoya strolled into the dining room, unruffled and uninjured. Ryohei wasn't with him.

"Sasagawa-san?" she questioned.

"Gone. He's a herbivore."

"He'll be back, won't he?"

"He's a stubborn herbivore."

Masami sighed and ate her omelet.

* * *

Six months after they met, Masami brought a radio to the rooftop, completely out of the blue.

Tsuna blinked and stared blankly at the little black box. "...Masami-san?"

"Yes?" Clearly unconcerned, Masami sat down and began to eat her bento.

"Why did you bring a radio to school?" he asked, feeling a little slow.

"I thought it would be nice," she said, leaning down and turning the machine on.

Tsuna wasn't at all caught up with the recent popular songs, but even he recognized the upbeat song that began blaring before Masami grimaced and turned the volume down a bit. But—"You like pop music, Masami-san?" He had never expected that; it just didn't seem to _fit_ with his friend's personality.

If anything, he would have thought classical music would be her type. She seemed like the really old-fashioned, traditional kind of person...not that there was anything bad about that, of course!

"Not really," she revealed idly. "I enjoy music in general. But Sawada-san, I do believe you have an English quiz today?"

He gulped, sweating bullets. "Errm...yes?"

"Speak with conviction please."

"Yes!" He all but tore his bag open to get out the study materials.

She smiled. "How about I test you now? Each wrong answer will result in twenty push-ups, I think."

Even as Tsuna moaned and pleaded for mercy, his muscles straining and trembling, he noticed the way Masami's foot tapped to the beat of the music and the way she hummed along softly.

Maybe she played an instrument? He was too afraid to ask.

* * *

That year passed rapidly in-between training, tutoring, and torturing Tsunayoshi. Then, it was onto the final year of elementary school.

Masami was rather glad of that. Perchance middle school would be more interesting? All Onii-san would say of Namimori Middle was that there were a lot of herbivores to bite to death.

Four months in, Tsunayoshi was improving adequately. His scores were still far too close to failing, but he could at least block a blow or two from Masami, and his instincts were better than expected.

A summer spent beating those reflexes into him probably helped. She could almost say that she was pleased with his progress. He was doing well, he was trying his best (mostly), and that was all she really cared for.

And then, two weeks before December, her phone rang.

Masami froze in the middle of her first class of the day. Her phone was on vibrate, so no one else had noticed, but the problem was that only five people had this number: Kyoya, Tetsuya, Kyoko, Hana, and Tsunayoshi.

Her brother and his subordinate wouldn't call but for an emergency. The two girls were right there in class with her. That left a particular charge who hadn't come to school that day, the one she had been planning on tracking down as soon as school let out.

...oh, dear.

Masami raised her hand. "May I go to the restroom, Sensei?" she questioned when the teacher called on her.

The man looked somewhat baffled—she usually went during lunch, if at all—but nodded. "O-Of course, Hibari-san."

She nodded in acknowledgment and calmly walked out the door. Upon closing it behind her, Masami broke out into a sprint, flipping open her phone at the same time. "Sawada-san? Is something wrong?"

 _"M-Masami-san!"_ As she had expected, his voice was high with anxiety and fear, breathless from what appeared to be exertion. _"There's a bunch of yakuza guys chasing me!"_

...yakuza? What on Earth had Tsunayoshi, still about as hopelessly dangerous as a baby calf, done to get the yakuza on his back? Masami kept her voice calm, soothing. "Where are you at the moment?"

_"Uhh...n-near the supermarket! A block to the left!"_

"Alright, stay put please." That would take her...around three minutes if she pushed it. "How many of them are there?"

_"I c-counted eight!"_

He might have improved, but against eight yakuza, Tsunayoshi stood no real chance. He would be crushed like a bug. "Hide and wait for me to find you."

 _"W-Wait_ — _!"_

Click.

* * *

Tsuna huddled against the wall and closed his eyes, trying out some of the calming breathing exercises that Masami had taught him a few weeks ago. Even after all this time, he could hardly believe that Hibari Masami had befriended someone like _him_.

From all the whispers flying around the school with Masami occasionally walked with him through the hallways, no one else could either. But then, she never cared about that and he had learned not to either.

It wasn't the most stereotypical relationship, he knew. In fact, most people probably wouldn't even call it that. From what he had gathered, Masami, well... he didn't know. She never really spoke of _why_ she had interfered that fateful day.

All Tsuna understood was that she _had_ , and because, Masami, as she had said, did not tolerate idiots—"herbivores," he had heard her mutter sometimes—she had taken it upon herself to correct some (all) of his perceived faults through whatever method worked.

It wasn't easy, of course. Being sorta-friends with Masami was difficult, all on its own. Most of the time, it didn't even feel like a friendship to Tsuna, more like she was his senpai and he was her kohai, even though they were the same age, or even a mentor and a student.

(Occasionally, when he was tired out and the wind was blowing and she was sitting nearby, the comfortable silence ringing in his ears, he regretted that terrible distance between them quietly. She might know almost everything about him, but he didn't even know her favorite book.)

It was slow-going and painful, and Tsuna ended up going home with bruises and sore muscles more often than not, though never anything serious, but he didn't regret not leaving that rooftop when he had the chance. Things were...things were better now.

His grades were rising gradually, his ingrained reflexes kept him from getting hit by the ball as often, and the bullies didn't dare bother him by virtue of Hibari wrath. The one time Shoda had, Tsuna had managed, miracles of miracles, to trip him and run for it.

That had been a good day. Masami had even treated him to ice cream to celebrate, albeit with Tsuna eventually footing the bill.

"Do you see him?!"

"He couldn't have gone far!"

"Get that little brat!"

Tsuna suppressed the urge to blubber and curled in on himself even more, shivering slightly. How long had it been since Masami had disconnected the call? She was unbelievably fast, so hopefully she would get here before...

A shadow fell into the back alley. "Well, well, well. What do we have here? A little mouse, trying to hide." Nope, course not. Cause his luck just wasn't that good, was it?

Nope. No, hahahaha, of course not, his luck just couldn't be that good. Prying his eyes open, he found one of the yakuza standing before him with an ugly sneer, a gun held in hand. Tsuna trembled, fear seizing his heart. Was this how he was going to die?! From a bullet in the cold...?

Tsuna... he... he didn't want to die. Not like this.

"Say goodbye!" The yakuza smirked and raised his gun, pointing it directly at Tsuna. His finger tightened on the trigger, and Tsuna closed his eyes. If he was going to die, he didn't want his last memory to be of this man.

He thought of Mom, with her warm laughter and delicious dinners. He thought of Kyoko-chan, with her shining beauty and enduring kindness. He thought of Masami-san, with her enigmatic smiles and unyielding will—

_BANG!_

Tsuna waited for the impact, waited to die, but it never came. Instead, a gentle wind blew past him and a familiar voice purred, "Now, now. That's no way to start a dance. Perhaps you'd like to try again?"

Tsuna's eyes flew open, and he was met with the flutter of a warm cashmere coat and the swaying flowers that dangled from expensive kanzashi. "M-Masami-san!" Oh, thank God! He was saved after all!

"Impressive..." the yakuza said, eyeing the hole in the wall to his right and the tessen she held in her hand ever so nonchalantly. "To deflect a bullet...you must be trained in combat."

Masami smiled serenely, spreading her fan open to cover the bottom half of her face. "Greetings," she said, dipping into a graceful bow. "Who might you be?" Tsuna wanted to groan; decorum at a time like this?!

The enemy scoffed, raising his gun once more to aim directly at her head. "It doesn't matter, now does it? I don't tell my name to dead little girls!"

Tsuna's breath caught, blood turning to ice in his veins as he finally comprehended the true danger. What had he been thinking!? How could he be so selfish!? Masami might seem like smoke to him, ethereal and untouchable, but she was human, too, made of flesh and bones. A gun, a bullet, could seriously _kill_ her!

"M-Masami-san, please, r-run away!" he shouted, lurching forward on his knees. "You could get h-hurt!"

"Yeah, listen to your boy toy over there." The yakuza chortled. "You could get hurt."

"Shush now, Sawada-san," Masami murmured softly, ignoring the man. "It'll be all right. I'm not a newbie to this ball, you know. I won't step on my partner's feet." There was a _snap!_ that signaled she had closed her fan again.

"Tch, what the hell are you talking about!?" the yakuza scoffed, finger tightening and teeth gritted. He was going to fire! Tsuna shook his head— _nononono!_ —and ran forward, thinking to push Masami out of the way...

...but she wasn't there anymore.

The gun in the yakuza's hands never fired, though its owner let out a cry. Masami landed lightly on her feet behind the falling man, the quick blow to his head that Tsuna had only just caught clearly having forced the attacker unconscious.

Tsuna's mouth dropped open. No way...he hadn't even been able to see her move...

"I heard a gunshot!"

"What happened?"

"Aww, did Shinji get the brat already?"

"I wanted some fun!"

"Shut up, you morons, there's someone ahead!"

"Hiee! Masami-san, n-now what?!" Tsuna leaned against the wall, his knees rubbery. He didn't know what to do and everything was so confusing! It had seemed like a normal day when he woke up, but now...

"Stay there, Sawada-san," she said, calm as ever, as if there weren't _another_ seven yakuza looking to blow their heads off. "This dance will be over quickly."

Before Tsuna could ask what the _hell_ his one and only friend was talking about, one of the yakuza stepped out from the shadows, a scowl on his scarred face and a bokken held tightly in his hands. "Oi! What did you do to Shinji?!"

Masami seemed to think about it for a moment before shrugging fluidly and smiling like a saint. "Who knows?"

"Why you—!" The man's face went apocalyptic, but she was moving before he had finished, striking him down effortlessly with a blow to the throat. He went down with a gurgled scream and his friends were felled in much the same way.

Not five minutes later, Masami was turning to a shell-shocked Tsuna, surrounded by unconscious bodies, that smile utterly untainted. "I do believe the problem has been resolved for now. Sawada-san, would you like to accompany me to my home?"

He could only nod dumbly and was gently led out of the alley by his classmate, who brought him to a fancy traditional Japanese house he'd never seen before, all gently slanted roofs and elegant pagodas. Tsuna didn't even know that houses were made so _big_ nowadays.

Was Masami rich? Sometimes, with the way she acted...

Tsuna eventually ended up snuggling under the warmth of a kotatsu, a cup of hot tea in his hands. "T-Thank you, Masami-san," he said gratefully, smiling tentatively at his classmate.

Said girl had changed into a flowing violet kimono as soon as she arrived home and he was settled. Nodding in recognition, she peered at him sharply with heavy-lidded dove gray eyes. "You're very welcome. Now, explain things to me, please."

"Oh, urm, right." He shouldn't have expected anything less from Masami. She always liked to know the complete facts of a situation before acting. There had been that one time when Tsuna came to the rooftop with a sprained ankle...

That hadn't been pretty.

"It started a street from my house," Tsuna explained, looking down into the steaming, swirling liquid. "I had a bad feeling about today, so I was on the lookout and I caught the yakuza staring at me around the corners."

"A bad feeling?"

"Yeah, it's stupid, I know, but still..." He shrugged, feeling oddly defensive even though there had been no skepticism in Masami's voice.

"That's fine. Please continue."

"Right, so," Tsuna took a big gulp of tea for courage, found himself at the end of a vaguely disapproving look, "one of them made a comment about how if they killed me, they would get a reward or something. I ran and then, well..."

"You called me." Masami blinked slowly and rose to her feet, the white calla flowers dramatic against the violet fabric in the bright sunlight. "Sawada-san, perhaps we should take a field trip today. I'm sure our teachers will understand."

"A-Ah, where to?" Hastily getting to his feet, Tsuna finished off his tea and placed the cup back on the kotatsu. He was pretty sure his hands should be free for this "field trip."

"The edges of Namimori." She smiled cryptically, a strange frosty edge to her voice, and retrieved a small black cylinder from a nearby cabinet. "Here, please take this, Sawada-san. You may need it."

"What is it?" He turned the cylinder over in his hands as he hurried after Masami, the difference between her silent steps and his noisy ones glaring.

"A taser," Masami said coolly from the doorway, turning to look at Tsuna over her shoulder. "A good hit should give you enough time to run."

* * *

"Hiiee!?" Tsuna stared disbelievingly at Masami, clutching at his head in a panic. "You brought me to the _yakuza hideout!?"_

She probably wouldn't even have told him if the rusty gate they stood in front of him didn't have a huge sign:

_STAY OUT OR DIE!_

"Please stop shouting before you draw unnecessary attention," she requested, ignoring his crisis. "Sawada-san, if you would hide behind that wall over there until this dance is over. You're still a bit clumsy yet."

Tsuna didn't waste a second in diving for the crumbling wall that Masami had pointed out, crying tears of despair at the path his life had led him towards. He was going to die today after all! It was what he deserved for making such a crazy friend!

Then again, Tsuna was near certain that no one and nothing stopped Hibari Masami when she wanted something, certainly not the weak protests of the school loser.

Meanwhile, said insane classmate frowned and tapped her closed fan against her lips for a moment. A light bulb lit up above her head half a second later. "Aha. I knew I'd forgotten something."

Something as inane as _forgetting_ could befall Masami?

Tsuna didn't believe it.

She pulled out her phone and dialed a number, expanding her black fan to cool herself absently...despite the fact that her breath was visible in the winter air. No, he didn't get her at all. "Greetings, Onii-san," she said.

Tsuna went as still as possible. It couldn't be. It was. Masami was talking to _Hibari._ The Hibari Kyoya. Well, Masami was a Hibari, too, but she was _Masami_ and Kyoya was _Hibari._ Oh my God, it was true, today was the day he would die! And he hadn't even written his will! Or confessed to Kyoko-chan!

"Outside the local yakuza hideout... They persist in being bothersome... I see. When you arrive, would you mind picking up my classmate? He'll be hiding out of sight... Thank you, Onii-san. I'll see you soon."

After putting her phone away, Masami gestured fleetingly towards Tsuna with her fan. "Please keep out of sight, Sawada-san. My brother will be here to supervise shortly."

"O-Oh." He breathed a sigh of relief, tense shoulders relaxing. Doubtlessly, Hibari would be able to take out the yakuza gang without blinking. "Don't worry, I'll just wait here with you until he gets here to take care of these guys—"

"If I may, _what_ are you referring to?" She raised a delicate eyebrow at him, turning back to face the fence resolutely. "Onii-san will be performing clean up. _I_ will be the one to dance."

"W-What?!" Aghast, Tsuna gaped openly at her, wondering dimly if his ears were working right. Maybe he had misheard? "I'm s-sorry, but I could have _sworn_ you just said you were going to take this gang on all by yourself."

"You did not misunderstand anything, Sawada-san." And though her words remained perfectly polite, for the first time ever, he saw a hint of bloodlust enter those steel gray eyes. It made him shiver. "This will be...a lovely promenade."

Then, before Tsuna could argue or stop her, Masami vaulted easily over the gate and landed on the other side. A shot promptly rang through the air, breezing past her with only an inch to spare.

"Oi! Who the hell are you!?" came the shout, followed in seconds by stamping feet as the yakuza on watch raised the alarm.

Masami merely stepped forward fearlessly, swaying this way and that as more bullets were aimed at her. Tsuna couldn't help being terrified even though he wasn't the one being shot at, but none of the bullets came close to hitting her. She didn't move with impatience at all, but she was out of his line of sight all too quickly.

And although his fingers were shaking and his breath was coming in rapid bursts, Tsuna forced himself to peek up over the wall to see what was going on. "Hieee!" Masami stood in the middle of the clearing in front of the abandoned building, surrounded on all sides by yakuza.

This wasn't good! Where was Hibari!? What was Tsuna going to do!?

"Little girls aren't allowed here," the probable leader of the group called out, stepping forward. "Get out and maybe we won't give you a lesson on wondering where you shouldn't fucking be!"

As Tsuna watched apprehensively, Masami merely withdrew her second fan from the sleeves of her kimono with a bow, holding one spread across her neck, partially obscuring her face, and the other parallel to the ground. She smiled. "Greetings. Shall we dance?"

In some dark corner of his mind, Tsuna admired how his friend's voice could come out so airy and pure, not a tremor to be heard. That didn't stop the rest of him from panicking on her behalf though. What was she _doing_? Was she trying to get herself killed!?

"Che, damn brats. Don't even have any common sense nowadays." The leader turned his back on Masami with that disgusted comment, waving a hand dismissively. "Well, I gave you the choice. Boys, fire!"

"W-Wait, Boss, I think that's—" One of his subordinates tried to cut in, but it was too late, the order had been given. About a dozen shots blasted out, and Tsuna opened his mouth to call out in a panic, despite knowing he could do nothing—

But Masami was already moving.

"I-It's that damn Skylark's little sister, damn it!" the poor subordinate called out in a panic right before he was sent flying through the air by a blur of white and purple to land hard on the concrete, frothing at the mouth.

"I apologize. Normally, I let my brother take care of things which is why you lot only know me by reputation..." Masami spared the time to inform the yakuza with faux sorrow. "But today will be an exception, I suppose."

And with that, she spun in a circle and flung back six men easily, sending them flying through the air in beautiful parabolic curves.

' _...I was an idiot_ ,' Tsuna thought, feeling a little faint as he tracked the course of the battle, ' _to think Masami-san would be scared of_ seven _opponents.'_ For now, she was faring against a good three dozen with ease.

Dancing, she had always referred to battle as dancing. And now, Tsuna could understand why. Every move that Masami executed was with such grace and poise that it was as if she was dancing with her opponents, a lethal, refined dance like none he'd ever seen before.

In comparison, the men that she fought were clumsy, inexperienced: boys who had stumbled onto the dance floor for the first time in their lives, tripping over their own feet. None of them ever seemed to be able to so much as touch her, their efforts in pained vain.

One second, the fans in her hands acted as clubs, hitting the yakuza with enough force that some collapsed on the spot, probably with a few broken bones. The next, they cut like blades, spilling crimson blood everywhere.

There was just no winning with her.

Masami danced her way through the opening number and right on into the hideout, leaving behind her a pile of limp bodies, red speckled on the gray concrete. Not long after that, loud screams and cries were audible again.

It was official, Tsuna decided. He was never, ever, _ever_ going to make Masami mad again.

"Herbivore."

Tsuna squeaked and dropped from the wall to land hard on his butt, fumbling with his taser only to end up staring wide-eyed at the prefect that he hadn't heard arrive but was now staring coldly at him.

Hibari Kyoya looked just as frightening as the rumors made him out to be, his eyes the same shade as his sister's but so much more unforgiving. The uniform he wore was unfamiliar, but the pair of tonfa he held were all too much so.

"H-H-Hi-Hibari-san!" Tsuna croaked out at last, his heart having dropped into his stomach. There had been far too many surprises today; he would end up having a heart attack at this rate!

Hibari eyeballed him disdainfully, plainly unimpressed. "So this is the herbivore my sister's been devoting her attention to for the past year? I should bite you to death right here, right now for giving her so much trouble."

Tsuna almost choked on his own spit, waving his arms frantically in front of him as a means of detergent. "P-Please don't!" When the prefect didn't look convinced, he added, "M-Masami-san wouldn't be h-happy!" Or, at least, he hoped so.

She wouldn't have wasted that much time on him if she wasn't somewhat emotionally invested, right? Tsuna didn't know; Masami was indecipherable on a good day and never really talked about her feelings. Tsuna had never really had the courage to ask either.

"Hn." Hibari was interrupted of his contemplation on whether or not his sister would be too badly heartbroken if Tsuna died by a long, drawn-out scream of pain from the hideout. That seemed to decide him. "We will continue this later, herbivore."

Spinning on his heel with the patent understanding that Tsuna would follow, Hibari stalked to the gate and destroyed it with a single swing of his tonfa. He strolled casually through the wrecked courtyard, perfectly relaxed in sharp contrast to the younger boy, who was near ghostly pale.

While the anxious Tsuna tried to go around the corp—bodies, bodies, they were still alive, they had to be alive—the prefect pointedly walked in a straight line with no regard to whatever, or _who_ ever, he crushed under foot. Meaning a lot of stepping on broken, bloodied yakuza with no regard to their wounds.

Tsuna winced at the sobs the men let out at the further abuse to their bodies, but Hibari didn't even seem to notice, much less care. Heading into the building also filled with defeated men, they were first ambushed when they turned a corner.

Tsuna didn't have the time to warn Hibari before a brutal strike from a tonfa brought the man to his knees and a kick sent him flying into the wall. Tsuna decided from there on out to wisely keep his mouth shut.

Hibari certainly didn't need his help...or want it.

As they progressed, Tsuna began to notice how...differently Hibari moved in comparison to Masami. It was weird; they were siblings, and thus, similar in the strangest of ways, but very, very different, too, all at the same time.

_"You understand how various students have varied handwriting? Dancing is the same. People have different dance patterns. Some are clumsy, some are smooth. Others like fast melodies or slow lullabies. It depends on the individual."_

Words Masami had spoken before when lecturing Tsuna on combat. Now, as he watched Hibari take down enemy after enemy, Tsuna suddenly found himself _getting it_.

Hibari was all savage ferocity and wild strength, easily striking down enemies and allies alike. He fought direct and efficient, not a single movement wasted. The battlefield was where he excelled, where he belonged. He reveled in the violence, was brutal, nearly fascinating in his intensity.

Masami, on the other hand, was motionless fluidity and shocking speed, quiet and sly. She struck fast and hard when needed, impossibly agile and nimble. Her precision was effortless, her grace stunning. She had turned fighting into a lovely art form, an expression of beauty and style.

They were both combat, both melee, but they were so very different.

Tsuna almost bumped into Hibari, distracted from his thoughts, and gulped at the death glare the prefect shot him in retaliation. He hastily redirected his attention to the building in the hopes of living a while longer.

There were cracks running down the walls, a whole bunch of graffiti on them, too. _'You fucker!'_ one proclaimed in violent red, _'Piss off!'_ another defied, _'You're all shit!'_ the last one scolded. The floors were dusty and bloody, what little furniture there was old and creaky.

These yakuza were pretty sad, in Tsuna's humble opinion.

"Masami."

Oh. Tsuna looked up, realizing that while he had been lost in his thoughts, Hibari had defeated three more lackeys and reached the center of the base. Tentatively, Tsuna leaned to the side to peer beyond the prefect.

His eyes widened.

Masami sat daintily on a desk that must have been positively ancient, the room that they occupied completely destroyed. A man, the leader, was lying unconscious on the rug, blood dripping out of his mouth and eyes rolled back into his head.

Tsuna dearly hoped that he wasn't _dead_.

Masami's calm eyes came to rest on her brother after a searching glance at her classmate. She slid off the desk, kimono blood-free, to smile sweetly and bow shallowly, poise intact. "Greetings, Onii-san, Sawada-san."

Even in the midst of blood and ruin, Tsuna marveled at how she could somehow _still_ manage to appear both composed and untouchable, like a heavenly harbinger of doom. He could see her contentedly reigning over the world after the apocalypse hit.

He found that equally, if not more, terrifying than the fact that she'd effectively taken down an entire yakuza base on her own. There was no telling how dangerous she could be at any given time...because this was the way she always acted.

Yup. Never, ever, ever, ever upsetting Masami again.

"Are you satisfied?" Hibari asked, stepping forward. What a strange question. Wait, what was Tsuna thinking? This was The Hibari Kyoya. There was no common set of earthly rules he was willing to operate by.

"I did," Masami replied, that dangerous smile widening. Only one fan in sight—the white tessen that was mysteriously somehow still white—she waved it vaguely at the fallen yakuza boss. "Kusakabe-san will be informed?"

"Yes." Hibari put away his tonfa, retrieving a phone that looked identical to the one that his sister used. "Tetsuya. The raid is over... We are not injured... Yes, an ambulance will be needed...Don't you dare crowd..."

While the scary prefect was distracted, Tsuna crept over to Masami's side. "A-Are you alright, Masami-san?" He hadn't seen any injuries, but she was good at hiding things like that.

She directed a reassuring smile at him. "I'm fine, Sawada-san. Thank you for your concern. I assume there were no problems before Onii-san arrived?"

"Y-Yeah. Are the yakuza...are they—" He couldn't say it.

"They're alive. All of them."

"Oh." Tsuna breathed a sigh of relief. It was over, it was really over. Now that the fighting was gone and done with, he almost felt his legs give. This had been an awful, awful day. He leaned against the desk so he wouldn't collapse.

God knew that Hibari's impression of him would hit rock bottom if he did something like that. If that was even possible anymore.

Masami looked thoughtfully at him for a moment before smiling. Her voice was gentle. "You need to get some rest, Sawada-san. Come with me, it's been a long day, hasn't it?" She began to glide out of the room, leaving things to her brother.

Tsuna nodded, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly as he followed her. "Yeah, sorry about that. It was all because of me that this happened, right?"

"Please don't fool yourself, Sawada-san," she disagreed without a hitch in her voice or stride. "This had nothing to do with you."

He froze, staring at her back in bewilderment. "Masami-san...?"

"This yakuza group has been a nuisance to the peace of Namimori for a very long time but never before have they dared to attack a student. They would have been disposed of sooner or later. I simply chose sooner," she elaborated without turning.

"O-Oh." Tsuna drooped, combined exhaustion and disappointment combining into a heavy weight that threatened to crush him into the ground. He'd known that cool, sophisticated Masami didn't consider him a close friend, but it still hurt.

He heard her sigh and then light fingers touched his chin, lifting his head up until their eyes locked. "Don't misunderstand me, Sawada-san," she said evenly. "Your training from before will look like a walk in the park after today. Should an incident like this repeat, I will not be so gracious."

Tsuna's eyes widened, torn helplessly between giddy happiness and cold terror. It was the first time, the first time _ever_ that Masami had ever insinuated, however subtly, that he was more than just an nuisance she had picked up off the street. He settled for grousing, "At least give me a day to rest, Masami-san."

She raised a slender dark eyebrow. "Absolutely not." Letting him go, Masami continued to navigate the twisted corridors with a confidence that he couldn't mirror. "As your defense is now satisfactory, we will move on to offense."

Tsuna shivered. Maybe he would have been better off if the yakuza had gotten to him.

* * *

Later that day, Masami rested her elbows on the chabudai, resting her chin on her interlaced fingers. Two hours ago, she had escorted Tsunayoshi home, where his mother, Sawada Nana, had fussed over him and thanked her.

At the very least, she thought to herself, Nana obviously loved Tsunayoshi, even if her comments on her no-good son having such a wonderful friend were aggravating. His missing father...well. That was an issue. A more important one than she'd realized.

And here she'd thought this little side project of hers was going to be straightforward and simple.

"Masami." Kyoya padded into the room on silent feet, exacting eyes quickly finding his sister. He sat down across from her in seiza, his silence, that in itself, an order. He wanted to know what was wrong.

"I persuaded an interesting piece of information from the yakuza leader," she said at last. "Regarding Sawada-san." It had shocked her though the time it had taken for the boys to arrive had her serenity reassembling flawlessly.

He grunted. "I do not see why you would associate with a herbivore like him, much less go on a rampage as you did. He is weak, not worth your time."

...a rampage, hmm? An applicable word for the ice that had flown through her veins, that freezing, ruthless state she had lived in not long ago, she decided. There had been very little mercy in her then. No one touched what was _her_ _s_ , a view shared by her brother.

Though, for Kyoya, there were only three things that he considered his. Himself—his person, his clothes, his belongings—his family, and his home—Namimori. Masami was more fluid on that matter, even if she was also far less possessive as a whole.

She sighed. "We've been through this more than once, Onii-san. I enjoy his potential."

Kyoya hummed noncommittally and drank from the cup of tea she'd poured for him. "Continue."

"...do you remember Otou-san telling us about the CEDEF of Vongola?" The External Advisers of the Family of what was widely regarded as the most powerful Mafia family in Italy.

He nodded and gave her a brisk look that said she should get to the point.

"Sawada Tsunayoshi's father is the current leader of the CEDEF, Sawada Iemitsu." The one who had once, according to Tsunayoshi, sent home a postcard depicting penguins while claiming he was looking for oil. _That_ one.

This time, there was blatant disbelief in Kyoya's eyes. "That cowering herbivore has connections to the Vongola?"

"It seems so. Although...I don't believe Sawada-san knows himself." He considered himself ordinary, entirely ordinary.

Which was totally ridiculous, seeing as Masami would pay not an iota of attention to someone _ordinary_.

"Hn." Kyoya gave her an assessing look. "In that case, perhaps your decision is not as outrageous as I initially thought. Keep an eye on him."

Masami smiled pleasantly and took a sip of tea. "Of course, Onii-san." And if his heritage was true, then Tsunayoshi was in quite a good amount of danger. More training.

As she'd promised, the day after that, Tsunayoshi had to drag himself home, crying silently all the way. ' _What did I do to deserve this!?'_

* * *

Luckily for Tsunayoshi, the months that followed were less strenuous, mostly because Masami became distracted by the budding changes of puberty.

She had noticed before, of course, but had shelved the knowledge away in the hopes that things would stay the same. Sadly, simply because she had ignored puberty did not mean puberty had ignored her.

A month before her twelfth birthday, Masami observed the blood in her underwear with a scowl. How irksome. Thankfully, her brother had already left for patrol—she only occasionally joined in now, rather than constantly following him as before—so she wouldn't have to explain this to him.

Shaking her head, she went downstairs to call her mother. Rika would know what to do.

Unfortunately, Masami discovered that her period was a troublesome thing. The abdominal cramps were aggravating, the headaches and cravings were irritating, and her temper was on a fine edge.

Tsunayoshi was the first victim to go.

"Is there something wrong, Masami-san?" he asked one day during lunch, peering at her with caution.

She went motionless. "Twenty laps around the school please."

"Hiiee!?" Poor Tsunayoshi looked half-alarmed and half-concerned.

"Now. Please." The snap of her fan made consequences evident.

"Why is it always meeeeee!?" he screamed as he dashed off, leaving a trail of dust behind him.

Kyoko and Hana understood as only other girls could, keeping out of her way when she was particularly irked.

Tetsuya didn't. He was number two.

"Masami-san, there's been some trouble with the delinquents."

"And my brother, Kusakabe-san?" This was _his_ self-appointed job. She had no interest in managing a territory.

Tetsuya inched away, evidently sensing something was wrong. "He did not want to perform the task..."

Masami smiled sharply, too restless to pretend civility. "I do not either."

He winced, taking a step towards the door. "Masami-san, please."

"Kusakabe-san?"

"...yes?"

"Please leave."

"H-Hai."

Tetsuya hastily retreated, swallowing hard. Even he had limits to his bravery.

The third and inevitable victim was Kyoya.

"Onii-san." Masami leaned against the wall outside of his office.

Kyoya looked up at that tone of voice, meeting gleaming storm gray eyes. "What?"

"Deal with your delinquents."

He examined the current level of danger. "...or?"

" _And_ buy me a box of chocolate." Turning on her heel, Masami glided out.

By night, there was a box of chocolate on the dinner table and a group of delinquents in the hospital.

Masami smiled beatifically and didn't poison her brother's ramen.

After her time of the month had passed, leaving the males in her life to breath a silent sigh of relief, even if they weren't quite sure what had been wrong, she stood before the bathroom mirror and stared at her reflection. Breasts. She was growing breasts.

...time to call Okaa-san again.

Needless to say, Kyoya did _not_ agree to go shopping with her that week. Not that he normally did, but there was an extra dot of vehemence this week. He didn't know what she was looking for, but male intuition said he should keep out of it.

Masami narrowed her eyes and brought Kyoko and Hana along. They consented cheerfully and made several stylish suggestions.

She knew there was a reason she kept them around.

Thankfully for Kyoya, Masami found the boys in her class, in her entire _school_ really, to be uninteresting and unworthy of a crush. That would have been disastrous on so many levels, especially for the poor, undeserving boy involved.

Unfortunately for Masami, this particular effect was not replicated for her, and she had to deal with hormone-ridden boys making eyes at her. Her retaliation came in the form of conduct colder than the ninth layer of hell. They were lucky Kyoya was in middle school.

Eventually, after his sister's fifth period and the subsequent mine-filled week, said prefect sighed and gave in. "Do _not_ wreck my motorcycle, Masami," he warned sternly.

Masami looked over the sleek, black machine and smiled, eyes glinting darkly in satisfaction. "No worries, Onii-san. I'll make sure to take good care of your baby."

Kyoya shot a comparatively mild glare at her before stalking away, throwing the keys in the air. Masami caught it with ease and began fiddling with the motorcycle.

Oh, this would be _fun._

* * *

Three weeks before graduation, Tsuna was walking to school when a faint _zoom_ caught his attention. He frowned, turning slightly to the side. "Eeh? It...sounds like...a car...?" Except cars normally didn't come onto this small road.

In the distance, a cloud of dust rose into the air, a figure coming closer...coming closer at a very high speed. "Hiiieee!" Throwing himself to the side in hopes of not getting rolled over, Tsuna put his bag on the ground and hoped he wouldn't have to fight.

If he _lost_ , Masami would flat-out kill him this time. Literally, there was no chance he would come out with his heart still beating.

As the gap between him and the approaching silhouette was eaten up, Tsuna managed to make out some details. Lingering dark tresses flying in the air, a elementary school uniform, two spinning wheels...

Tsuna's eyes popped out as the motorcycle sped past him and turned sharply, shrieking to a halt. A heeled boot came down to steady the rider, dove gray eyes bright with exhilaration.

" _M-M-Masami-san_?!" Tsuna shouted incredulously, feeling like running back to bed and diving under the covers. What was going on?!

His classmate glanced at him with a peaceful smile, as if she hadn't just come flying in on a motorcycle— _a_ _motorcycle!_ —saying, "Greetings, Sawada-san," complete with a tasteful bow.

"G-Good morning!" Tsuna managed to spit out, echoing the bow because to do otherwise was to cause even more trouble. "Er, uh, what's with the motorcycle—!?"

"Oh, this?" Tone as casual as if they were talking about the weather, Masami laid a tender hand on the gleaming flank of the vehicle. "It's Onii-san's. I'm borrowing it until graduation."

All color leached out of Tsuna's face. "Y-You mean you're going to come to school every day...like _this_?! And where's your _helmet_!?" How was this legal? What had he done in his past life to deserve this? H-Had he been a yakuza or something!?

Unbeknownst to Tsuna, he wasn't that far off the mark.

"That is correct. Helmets are uncomfortable and unnecessary, and I'm sure you'll agree with me when I say I don't need them." Masami paused to smile kindly at a horrified Tsuna. "Would you like a ride, Sawada-san?"

Tsuna ran off into the sunrise, crying loudly, arms flailing. "HIIIIIEEEEEE!"

* * *

And thus, in no time at all, they graduated from Namimori Elementary and entered Namimori Middle.

Then, things started to get _interesting._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OpalescentGold: Masami meets Tsuna and promptly decides to adopt him. Turning a herbivore into a carnivore - or at least an omnivore - is a hard and arduous job, especially when you find out that your new charge has very suspicious parents with very suspicious connections to the mafia.
> 
> Good thing the old, ancient, traditional, very violent and equally as suspicious Hibari family also has connections to the mafia! And various other criminal organizations!
> 
> (Fon, I'm looking at you.)
> 
> Thanks for all of the support from everyone and a shout out to my betas! Please leave a comment and I'm on [tumblr](https://opalescentgold.tumblr.com/)!~
> 
> Chabudai: tables with short legs, used in conjunction with zabuton when eating as a family.
> 
> Fusuma: sliding panels that act as doors and walls.
> 
> Futon: thin bedding meant for sleeping
> 
> Genkan: main entrance to a house.
> 
> Ikebana: the art of flower arrangement.
> 
> Ranma: panels found above shoji or fusuma that are designed to let light into the room.
> 
> Seiza: formal way of sitting, kneeling with legs folded underneath.
> 
> Shamisen: three-stringed musical instrument.
> 
> Shodo: the art of calligraphy.
> 
> Tatami: mat floors traditionally made of rice straw.
> 
> Tessenjutsu: martial art of the war fan.
> 
> Uchiwa: flat-faced fans.
> 
> Zabuton: thin pillows used as cushions to sit on.
> 
> Zhuazhou: Chinese tradition on a child's first birthday; the parents place an assortment of items in front of their child and what the child chooses is said to determine their future inclinations and capabilities.


	3. Basse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OpalescentGold: I do not own Katekyo Hitman Reborn!

_Basse: an Italian courtly dance for couples, with a style of small gliding steps and various combinations of small bows in 12/8 time._

* * *

The summer after graduation, Kyoya decided it was finally time for his little sister to join his Disciplinary Committee, seeing as she would shortly be attending Namimori Middle.

Accordingly, he informed Tetsuya that all members were to be gathered in the gym tomorrow morning while he went off to find Masami. Everyone else might be off crowding during break, but there were remedial school and herbivores to be looked after.

Granted, even if there hadn't been that, Kyoya would still have been busy patrolling the streets and keeping the sheep happy, but as it was, he was dismally occupied with stupid herbivores who couldn't use the soft matter in their skulls.

At least, there was time for him to nap on the rooftop.

Tracking Masami down to her favorite bookstore, he found her seated in a corner table, her glasses perched on her nose and gray eyes set firmly on the book of politics she was devouring at the moment, a cup of coffee and a half-eaten muffin by her hand.

Honestly, sometimes Kyoya's sister acted too much like a studious herbivore for his liking. It wasn't as if she didn't have one of the highest grades in her year.

All the same, as soon as he came within fifteen feet of her, Masami's eyes darted up, her position changing subtly to allow for both offensive and defensive measures at the slightest hint of threat, a fan suddenly innocuously tapping against the table.

But, he smirked, it didn't truly matter because she was a carnivore at heart, as was expected of a Hibari, even if she liked playing the harmlessly polite piranha in the school of weak, helpless fish for her own amusement and benefit.

"Greetings, Onii-san," she said with a soft smile and a dip of her head. "What brings you here?"

Kyoya hardly _enjoyed_ visiting bookstores.

"Hn. You will join the Disciplinary Committee tomorrow in the gym of Namimori Middle at the break of dawn." It came out as more of a statement than an order or a question.

There was a beat of silence as she considered. He waited for her to agree, not patiently, but not impatiently either, because, for all that his sister didn't much appreciate responsibility outside of what she chose for herself, she would concede if he asked.

"Hmm...alright," she said finally with an almost convincingly light tone. "How are the novices doing? Have they caught up to your standards yet?" The delinquents that Kyoya had persuaded—threatened—into his Committee had been pitiful the last time she saw them. Easy prey.

He grunted disdainfully, sitting down in a free chair across from her. "No, they remain pathetic herbivores. You can start remedial training with them later."

Masami was far more patient than Kyoya was—she could endure the sad state of his subordinates long enough to drill some backbone into them. And, more importantly, she actually _liked_ making something worth looking at of weak herbivores.

Or rather, she had a hobby of making useful things out of useless things. It wasn't always herbivores; in fact, most of the time, it wasn't herbivores. Since childhood, it had been plucking wildflowers and creating bouquets. It had been embroidering kimonos and producing works of art.

Masami was the type of person who delighted in taking something and making it _more_.

Honestly, it wasn't until she had found Sawada Tsunayoshi that she'd added herbivores to her list of projects. Kyoya still wasn't sure what was so special about that ridiculously fluffy herbivore, but it wasn't his time that was being wasted.

If she thought she could make a carnivore out of a herbivore, then he would watch her try.

"Hai, hai," Masami said despite the well-hidden glimmer of hesitation in her eyes, her distracting smile so innocuous anyone who truly knew her would run off screaming like a little girl. "Well, I'm sure tomorrow will be a very interesting day."

* * *

Tetsuya closed the door behind him and observed the men in uniform, lined up in ranks along the wall, with pitying eyes, which he carefully concealed behind cool pragmatism and dull professionalism. These poor prefects were going to get a shock today, but hopefully, they would live through it.

What didn't kill you made you stronger, right?

Or maybe it was what didn't kill you went after you with a pair of tonfa and bit you to death.

Something like that. Maybe his time with the Hibari siblings had distorted his view of the world a bit. _Just_ a bit.

Striding out to stand in front of them, Tetsuya noted the military posture and stoic faces with a nod of approval. Maybe they would survive after all. Then again, this was Hibari Masami, and there was just no predicting her.

"Men," he started out formally, clasping his hands behind his back, "I have called you here today so that we can meet the newest member of the Disciplinary Committee of Namimori Middle School."

No murmurs, no whispers, though there were a few glances here and there. Good. They were learning self-control. Kyoya expected no less and would accept no less.

"If I may introduce..." He turned dramatically towards the closed doors of the gym, gesturing with his arm. "...Masami."

Right on cue, the door was pushed open and a familiar girl glided in gracefully, her expression mostly covered by her fan. But Tetsuya—and probably only Tetsuya, seeing as Kyoya wasn't here yet—could see the laughter in those dove gray eyes as Masami took in the gobsmacked looks on his subordinates' face

He knew what they were seeing: a petite girl with flowers in her hair, waving around a delicate fan, and dressed in a deep blue yukata, looking ever so innocent and sweet. A little _angel_ , really.

Finally, one of the veterans in the group, Yachi, deigned to speak up, his face so blank it only served to frame the disbelief in his blue eyes. "T-This is our new recruit, Kusakabe-sempai?" he questioned incredulously.

Her laughter chimed in the air as she stepped forward to stand beside Tetsuya and bowed. "Yes. Greetings, everyone. Please take good care of me."

Tetsuya and Masami were then promptly treated to the amusing show of hardcore former-delinquents, gruff and violent and manly, gaping at them openly with their heads tilted to the side, question marks hanging over them.

The second-in-command coughed awkwardly into his fist when the silence stretched out a bit too long and hustled the prefects away from more staring before Kyoya busted through the door and bit them all to death for disrespecting his sister.

Not that the men currently knew that.

"Ahem. Alright, Ibu, Kamisaka, and Tsuga, get up here." He pointed at the individuals as he singled them out, all relatively new and certain to underestimate their new associate. "Spar with Masami." Tetsuya inwardly winced at his own disrespect, but it was for the greater good, he assured himself.

Besides, Masami herself had gently agreed to the ruse, if only because it meant she got to have some fun with her unfortunate dancing partners. Kyoya was a different matter, but he couldn't know, could he?

Tetsuya swallowed and decided not to push his luck.

"Eeeh?" Kamisaka, a decent fellow all things considered, but a bit chauvinistic, scratched at his hair. "You sure, sempai? All three of us? I mean, she is new and all..."

"Yeah, she wouldn't last a second...no offense or anything," Tsuga tacked on sheepishly with an apologetic glance at the girl in question, who merely hid her thoughts behind her fan.

Ibu didn't say anything, but arched his eyebrows and looked Masami up and down with poorly concealed skepticism. If nothing else, he was certainly going to receive an education today.

"No talking back," Tetsuya reprimanded sternly. "Get up here."

The three boys grumbled and groused, but broke formation to surround Masami as Tetsuya backed off. The dancer snapped her fan shut and smiled, honey-sweet, stashing her conspicuous weapon away so quickly no one was quite sure where it went.

"Hey," Kamisaka said, raising his hands with a pacifying grin. "No hard feelings, alright? Think of it as hazing."

"Shut up," Tsuga muttered to his friend from the corner of his mouth. "That's not reassuring."

"We'll go easy on you," Ibu conceded, smiling faintly at the girl in an attempt to comfort her.

Masami simply covered her giggles with her hand as if by habit, eyes sparkling playfully. "Shall we dance then?"

While the three were preoccupied with looking stupid by standing there in confusion, Tetsuya snorted and called out, "Start!" The wretched boys wouldn't know what had hit them.

And, of course, he was all-too-right.

Kamisaka moved first, the hotheaded fool, rushing in with a fist cocked back but a clear hesitation in his stance. He obviously didn't want to hit the pretty, dainty girl too hard.

Sadly for him, she had no similar reservations. As soon as he was within range, Masami weaved under the punch agilely and swept his legs out from under him, sending him sprawling to the floor with a wide-eyed gasp.

Before Tsuga or Ibu had even had a chance to recover from their surprise, she was on them, not giving them so much as a second to process the startling turn of events. A flip of her arm allowed Tsuga to join his friend and a strike to Ibu's solar plexus brought him down as well.

As fights went, this one was woefully anti-climatic. It had taken a total of around fifteen seconds.

The silence in the gym echoed. For a brief moment, Tetsuya reveled in the quiet. The Hibari siblings were very good at causing it, he noted wryly.

Tetsuya looked at the remaining men with a purposefully bland face, noting their pale, sweaty faces with gleeful amusement. "Any other objections to Masami?" he demanded.

"No, sir," came the unified reply as the prefects stared at the previously harmless-looking girl with a great deal of nervousness, a good sprinkling of fear, and a touch of awe.

"Good. Now, Yachi, Arishima, Odaka, you're up."

Approximately five minutes later, every single prefect, barring Tetsuya, was lying flat on their backs on the hard floor, staring distantly at the bright lights. They must have been quite captivating. Standing right smack in the middle, Masami's serene smile had never faltered.

"Perhaps a bit more practice before stepping on the dance floor again?" was all she murmured, her fan showing up out of nowhere to air herself, casually taking no notice of the wrecked ego her every victim now sported.

"Wao. Masami, I see you've been having fun." A low, amused voice spoke up from the door, prompting the prefects to stiffen and haul themselves to their feet to salute at light-speed.

Tetsuya himself blinked and almost jumped two feet in the air despite his extensive experience regarding this very scenario. Really, they were like cats. "Kyoya-san!" Leaning casually against the door frame from where he had been watching for who-knows-how-long, the Head of the Disciplinary Committee looked somewhat sleepy.

He'd probably been taking a nap then.

_Cats._

Meanwhile, Masami visibly brightened and flowed airily around the tall, intimidating men she had just beaten into the ground to bow to Kyoya with a faint smile. "Greetings, Onii-san."

A shocked kind of horror filled the faces of every prefect in sight, their muscles locking together to prevent any kind of unknown movement in the devastating situation they now found themselves in. Tetsuya swallowed down his laughter.

"...'Onii-san'...?" Okada repeated in a whisper, swaying slightly on his feet. He looked a tad green.

Ibu gulped heavily, licking his lips. "President...then she is...?"

"What." Yachi's voice was impressively monotone.

"Ah, I suppose I forgot to mention," Tetsuya said, feigning innocence as much as he was able to, although he wasn't nearly as skilled as Masami. His eyes were shadowed but glinting. "Masami-san's full name is Hibari Masami, and she is Kyoya-san's younger sister by two years. My bad."

Kamisaka, who had only just recovered from his beating, fell back, eyes rolling into the back of his head, and fainted like an innocent maiden exposed to blood for the very first time.

Tsuga quickly chose to follow his friend's example, even as the newly-revealed fact soothed his wounded pride. No wonder he had lost; it was his Boss' _sister_.

The look Kyoya saw fit to give them all was blatantly unimpressed. "Enough crowding," he said blandly, tonfa appearing in hand. "Or I'll bite you all to death."

The prefects obligingly scattered before the wrath of the Skylark could strike, Ibu frantically dragging Kamisaka and Tsuga's bodies out of the gym with the help of considerate Arishima.

"Hmm." Masami blew out a breath slowly and laughed. "That went nicely."

* * *

After that, Masami's induction into the Disciplinary Committee went remarkably well, her position as Kyoya's new left-hand accepted with little to no fuss. No prefect had the guts to argue against their President...plus, she had kicked their asses, and they all knew it.

Strength _was_ respect in their group, a philosophy that had most likely originated unwittingly from Kyoya. After getting over the shock that their revered President _had_ a sister—and why hadn't they heard about this before!?—no prefect had denied that Masami was more than suitable for the position she'd been given.

It wasn't as if Kyoya would have listened to any protests anyway, much less any that were disrespectful to _his_ sister. He would have just bitten the herbivore to death and gone on to do exactly what he'd planned. That was simply the way their Boss was.

As the self-proclaimed third-in-command—even though Tetsuya deferred to her—Masami easily took charge of the paperwork, filing, information gathering, and other formalities. She was the one who went around sorting all the regular reports they received into something coherent and then giving it to Kyoya.

Unknown to the prefects, the siblings were actually somewhat surprised by how fast she took to the desk work. When questioned by Kyoya, Masami had merely shrugged and said that it seemed straightforward and easy to her. He'd nodded and promptly redirected the majority of his work to her.

She'd accepted with a smile and a glint in her eyes. Needless to say, that week, the motorcycle was hers and their meals consisted of far too much dango for sanity's sake. She was an expert at passive-aggressive retribution.

Not that Masami didn't know how to keep Kyoya happy. She was well aware of how the President's mind worked and how he liked things. There had been a decent decrease in violent incidents caused by Kyoya with the addition of coffee, hamburger steaks, and chocolate in the office.

Actually, the general consensus among the prefects was that the last one was for the girl herself, especially after a long day of bending over stacks and stacks of forms, but no one was foolish enough to say that.

As the pseudo accountant/manager/diplomat, Masami kept things moving smoothly, acted as the polite, well-received buffer between the prefects and authorities, while Tetsuya dealt with the student body and all of their problems.

It was a good working relationship, all things considered. The school population was certainly pleased and relieved.

But, more than all that, the first round of business that Kyoya assigned to Masami was to train the prefects. Correctly. And if any of them had any delusions about their new superior being kinder than their boss because she _looked_ like it, none of those delusions survived their first training—torture—session.

Oh, the worst of ironies for this Spartan princess to be called an angel by the school staff and considered a sweet, respectful girl by the majority of the town.

Not that it could be said the prefects of Namimori didn't like Hibari Masami. As with the President and Kusakabe-sempai, she had their loyalty and respect. It just so happened that Masami was unpredictable and held enough sway in their lives that they were also wholly terrified.

"Masami-sama!" Kamisaka cried as he collapsed to the floor. "Forgive me, but I can't go on anymore!"

"That's great, Kamisaka-san!" Masami clapped her hands lightly, smile soft. "Forty more push ups, please."

Had the prefects interacted with Sawada Tsunayoshi, they would have immediately bonded with the fluffy boy over shared trauma at the hands of their trainer—i.e. tormentor from the deepest layer of hell.

* * *

The very first thing Masami did when she stepped foot into Namimori Middle was establish her place in Kyoya's Discipline Committee. It went well, as she'd expected, so she crossed that off of her list.

The second thing Masami did was scout out the school. She walked down every hallway, peered discreetly through every classroom, and generally explored every nook and cranny. By lunch, she had a perfect mental blueprint of the building, along with certain renovations that could be useful later on.

If there had been anyone with the intention of reminding her that this was against the rules, as school hadn't yet started, her new uniform had very nicely cut them off.

Since the Disciplinary Committee had been originally composed of all male members, there hadn't been a female uniform before her arrival, meaning Masami was free to decide what she wanted to wear so long as Kyoya approved in the end.

So, in accordance with her sense of fashion and some input from Kyoko and Hana, Masami had eventually decided on a white blouse with a black tie, a black pleated skirt, knee-high black socks, and black heeled boots. It was suitably comfortable and professional.

It had been drilled into her from childhood that first impressions were important. Accordingly, Masami went to all of her classes on the first week of school and firmly reinforced the idea of the perfect, angelic student with impeccable manners and top grades.

After that, it would be up to her whether or not she needed to attend a particular class. She still did for most of them, since education _was_ important and she could always complete her duties before and after school, but she quite enjoyed the ability to choose.

The third thing Masami did was reject a male student. Which...pardon?

Not long after the beginning of the school year, she was confessed to for the first, but sadly not the last, time. Thankfully, it was in private, as she didn't know how she would have reacted to a public declaration—it would have been _bad_ —but it remained a highly disturbing event.

She couldn't fathom what that boy had been thinking.

With the firm resolution to never allow Kyoya to hear a peep of the incident, Masami set off to find Kyoko and Hana for some explanations and advice. At the very least, Kyoko was the school's new idol, so she should know how to deal with such things, Masami reasoned.

"Hmm? Masa-chan, is something wrong?" Kyoko asked with a kind smile when the new prefect joined the two over lunch, discreetly scaring away all their other friends with a cool look. She tolerated the nickname; it wasn't so bad.

"An unfamiliar boy came up to me yesterday and confessed his undying devotion," Masami deadpanned cordially with a bemused shake of her head. "I'm afraid I simply don't understand, Sasagawa-san. I've never even talked to him before."

"Tch, hormonal teenage boys with crushes aren't really _logical_ , Masa," Hana pointed out, rolling her eyes. "You turned him down, right?" Nothing less would fit with her sky high standards.

"Yes, I did," Masami said instantly. Granted, she had been polite, but still. "Higashi-san would never have survived Onii-san." The boy had run off crying, but it was a much more preferable outcome than the bloody homicide that would have occurred when Kyoya found out. Which he wouldn't. Ever.

"Good girl." Hana nodded approvingly, picking at her soba. "But, I gotta say, he probably isn't the only one with a massive crush on you. If you acted just a little bit nicer, half of the stupid monkeys in our class would be fighting over you."

Masami stared at her in horror. "...please, please tell me you're joking." That much attention would be terribly stifling, _crowding_ as Onii-san would say. She wasn't even interested in any of the fumbling boys in their school. Most of them couldn't carry a decent conversation with her for more than five minutes.

Hana smirked evilly. "Sorry, but no. That outfit of yours makes you stand out and you're one of the prettiest girls in our grade. Boys like to think you're playing hard to get so that only encourages them. The only reason most of them haven't approached you before is because of that brother of yours."

Eyes blank, Masami turned to Kyoko, who had been listening to the conversation with an amused smile. "Is this true, Sasagawa-san?"

Kyoko winced, looking slightly apologetic despite all three of them knowing she had her own personal fan club. "Ah...hai, Masa-chan. I would just ignore it if I were you. I mean, if someone confesses to you and you don't like him, just turn him down nicely. It's not so bad. Really."

Masami arched a slender eyebrow. Was it honestly that simple? She found the very idea of confessions at this age disconcerting. They were in _middle school_. And she was only a first-year for that matter.

"Besides, your freak of a brother has a bigger fan club." Hana snorted.

"... _what_."

* * *

Three months into the school year and Masami was back in her favorite bookstore, watching Tsunayoshi occasionally run past on his daily training through the window. She had been none too happy to find out he'd grown lazy during her absence in the summer and doubled his training regimen as punishment.

"Masami-san...I'm...done..."

She glanced up idly as her classmate dragged himself into the bookstore, sweaty and breathless, the rest of the regulars so used to the antics of the two that they carried on with their business without missing a beat. "Sawada-san. Good job."

Tsunayoshi grinned tiredly, but there was a glint of satisfaction in his eyes. Masami didn't withhold compliments as some teachers did, but neither did she withhold criticism, and she knew he basked in the few times she expressed her approval.

"Please feel free to return home," Masami offered, turning a page in her book of French history.

"Hiieee?" Tsunayoshi furrowed his brow, frowning. "But, Masami-san, you _never_ let me go with just this amount of torture."

"Take the opportunity if it is offered," she lectured gently, unperturbed by his reference to her training methods. "Go home and rest."

Still looking confused, Tsunayoshi nodded and bade her goodbye, looking briefly at the sky with worry before jogging back home.

Masami rubbed her upper arms absently and observed the darkened sky as well, thoughtful and reflective. "A storm's coming..." she murmured to herself, taking a sip of chamomile tea. Her eyes flickered to the road for a moment, before she pulled her attention back to her book.

Naturally, the next day, Tsunayoshi didn't come to school.

* * *

Tsuna was...happy.

He wasn't dame anymore, he had a (sorta) friend, and he was good enough to actually spar with said friend for five minutes without being knocked back into the dirt. His grades were okay, he could pass the ball more often than not in gym, and his mother's smile could outshine the sun.

Sure, now that Masami was a prefect, sometimes she had to cut their lunches together short and maybe she had been distracted lately and she didn't always come to class either, but he stayed firm in his belief that there was no way he had earned enough bad karma for _this._

"Ciaossu. I arrived three hours early, but as a service, I'll evaluate you now."

"Hey, whose kid are you?"

"Hm? I'm Reborn, the home tutor."

Tsuna stared at the fedora-wearing, dark-eyed, suitcase-toting baby on his doorstep and unwittingly shivered. He had no idea what was going on—why had his mom answered the flyer anyway? His grades had improved nicely over the years, thank you very much; must have been because it was free—but this...this aura, this feeling was familiar.

Sadly.

This was no regular baby, Tsuna decided immediately. Somehow, despite the fact that there was no resemblance at all, this... _Reborn_ reminded him of Masami. Not ordinary, chilly polite, sweetly distant Masami, but the Hibari Masami who had destroyed a yakuza base by herself in under an hour.

 _Dangerous_ , he thought.

"Oh, my!" Nana exclaimed when Tsuna did nothing but stare blankly at his new so-called tutor. "What do you think, Tsu-kun?"

"...I don't need a tutor," Tsuna said at last when the baby turned pitch black eyes on him.

"So, you're Tsuna," Reborn said, looking up at the teen calmly.

"Hey, thanks for coming, but it's not nec—Hiiee!" Instincts taking over, Tsuna veered back just as a small foot would have kicked him in the stomach. Tsuna gaped at the baby—that would have been painful! "What was that for?!"

Reborn gazed at him with a pensive look that looked entirely out of place on a baby's face. "Looks like you're not as useless as I expected," he commented dispassionately. "Come on, we're talking in your room, Dame-Tsuna."

"How do you even _know_ that nickname?!" Tsuna questioned while he struggled to keep up with Reborn as the baby climbed the steps confidently. "Who the heck are you anyways?!"

"I told you, I'm Reborn, your tutor." The baby stopped in the middle of Tsuna's bedroom and smiled, snapping open his suitcase to reveal parts of a gun, one that he quickly put together. "But my true line of work is assassination."

Tsuna regularly spent time with Masami, the acknowledged 'Angel' of Namimori Middle. His one and only friend was also the little sister of Hibari, the Chairman of the Disciplinary Committee. As such, he was quite used to violent, strange, traumatizing proceedings.

But... "Assassination," he repeated, tone masterfully bland. Tsuna had to admit this took the cake. And maybe the six-course dinner.

Reborn nodded, turning the gun to aim at Tsuna. "My real job is to make you a mafia boss."

Tsuna froze, heart sinking. His first coherent thought was, ' _Masami-san is going to_ kill _me.'_ His second coherent thought was, ' _What is it with the gun!?'_ His third coherent thought was, ' _No way in hell. Or out of it.'_

" _What_ are you talking about?!" he demanded with a scowl.

The hitman only blinked at him. "I was assigned by a certain man to train you to become an astounding mafia boss."

"Wait, wait, wait. Hold up!" Tsuna waved his hands in front of him in the time-out gesture. "Who's this 'certain man'? Mafia boss of _what_? Who _are_ you!?"

"The 'who' isn't important right now," Reborn told him. "You're going to be the Vongola Decimo, the head of the largest, most powerful famiglia of Italy. And I'm the home tutor who's going to get you there."

Tsuna narrowed his eyes and shook his head firmly. He didn't care how dangerous this baby was or what he might do. His life had finally been going his way for once, and he didn't have any intention of letting some stranger change that. "Nu-uh. I'm sorry, but I'm _not_ going to become a _mafia boss_ and nothing you say or do is going to change that."

"We'll see," was all Reborn said ominously.

* * *

Masami heard the rumors first.

"Did you heard? Sawada..."

"He confessed to Kyoko-chan!"

"In his boxers!"

"I hear Mochida-senpai's angry!"

"Well, of course! How could Sawada touch _our_ idol?!"

"Do you think there'll be a fight?"

"I guess he's dame after all."

"For the crime of crowding, I'll bite you all to death."

"EEEEKKK, WE'RE SO SORRY, HIBARI-SAN!"

Masami paused and pursed her lips as Kyoya went after the chattering gossipers. She had known of Tsunayoshi's crush on Kyoko for a long time, but for him to act on it was unusual for the boy she'd met with yesterday.

Much less in a haggard state of undress. She liked to think she'd taught him better than that.

Tilting her head, Masami tracked down Kyoko for the real story. "Greetings, Sasagawa-san," she said when she found her friend in an empty corridor, bowing shallowly.

Kyoko smiled brightly, turning to face her. "Masa-chan! Good morning! Is there something wrong? I thought you had to do your disciplinary duties in the morning."

In the afternoon and night, too, but that wasn't the point. "Well, I've been hearing some rumors, so would you please clarify them for me?" Masami asked.

"Ah..." Kyoko blinked, frowned pensively. "Is this about Tsuna-kun?"

"Yes. If it's not too uncomfortable, would you please recount your experience?" Moving to lean against the window, Masami glanced past the glass absently, taking in the crowds her brother would doubtlessly destroy in a few minutes.

"Alright!" she agreed easily, scrunching up her face in thought. "Let's see...when I was walking to school this morning, I caught a glimpse of Tsuna-kun and the cute baby following him around."

"Cute baby?" Tsunayoshi was an only child, as far as Masami knew.

"Mm-hm. I think his name was Reborn." Kyoko giggled, smiling. "He was playing at being in the mafia. It was so adorable!"

"I see." Masami was near certain she had heard the name "Reborn" somewhere, but she would take care of that later. Any mention of the Mafia, with Tsunayoshi's heritage, was most likely actually true. How troublesome.

"Right, so, after that, Tsuna-kun came running in from out of nowhere and asked me to go out with him. It was really weird," Kyoko recounted, frowning a bit. "He was only in his underwear. He never acts like that in class."

Masami narrowed her eyes. Strange behavior, strange baby, strange appearance. Hmm. "Perhaps he was simply out of sorts today," she offered. "Sick...or possibly delirious."

"You think so?" Kyoko perked up, looking relieved.

"I'll ask him later," Masami promised, adjusting her skirt. "The bell's going to ring soon, so I'll see you later, alright, Sasagawa-san? Thank you for telling me about your day."

"Aww, it was no problem, Masa-chan!" Beaming, Kyoko went off to her first class of the day, waving enthusiastically at Masami until she turned the corner and met up with Hana.

Masami waved back and proceeded to quietly excused herself from class to place a phone call on the rooftop.

"Greetings, Otou-san." It had been five months since she had last talked to her father.

 _"Masami. What is it?"_ Satoshi's voice out deep and calm, as familiar as ever.

"What do you know about a baby named 'Reborn?'"

There was a tense pause. _"Reborn, you say?"_

"Correct."

_"Reborn is the Greatest Hitman in the World, also known as the Sun Arcobaleno."_

Masami blinked. "...like Fon-san?"

_"Yes."_

She thought about why a hitman would be in Tsunayoshi's company. "Would he be allied to any particular Mafia family?"

_"He's a freelance hitman, but he has strong connections with the Vongola."_

Well. Masami fiddled with her gunsen absently, closing her eyes in contemplation. "I see. Thank you, Otou-san."

 _"Be careful, Masami. Reborn is not someone you want to mess around with."_ Satoshi didn't ask what in the world she was doing asking about the infamous hitman in the first place, and she was grateful.

"I will." Flipping her phone shut, the dancer turned to face her brother, who leaned against the wall behind her, eyes narrowed. "A carnivore's in town."

 _That_ got Kyoya's attention. "Tell me more," he said, eyes narrowing in a mixture of excitement and possessiveness. Namimori was _his_ town. He might share with Masami, but anyone else would get bitten to death.

She told him, and when she was done, mentioned, "I'll probably be late to school tomorrow. Apologies."

Kyoya nodded curtly and turned to leave. "The baby's my opponent, Masami."

"Wait," Masami requested, looking up at the sky. It was clear today, bright blue and filled with light. "Just until I know what's going on, please."

"...fine." Disappearing down the stairs, Kyoya made off to patrol the hallways, Masami right behind him in her quest to tackle the paperwork. Today would be long and boring.

Not that it could possibly compensate for the chaos that would doubtlessly follow.

* * *

Sawada Tsunayoshi wasn't at all what Reborn had been expecting. Wimpy, pathetic, stupid, and a Dame to the core had been what the reports said. Iemitsu had been of the opinion his "tunafishie" was shy, fluffy, weak, stuttering, and cute.

To turn this boy into a mafia boss, the spies had concluded disdainfully, would take a miracle. The hitman made a note to tear apart and then fire those same spies later. They were clearly deluded and incompetent.

As for the boy's missing, idiotic father, well...Iemitsu would need a more...specialized kind of punishment.

Even if the accounts had been right once upon a time, Tsunayoshi had _changed_. For one, Tsuna had been more wary than disbelieving when meeting a baby hitman, intriguingly perceptive to the point that he had noticed that Reborn was no ordinary infant right away.

His grades were decently above average, a noticeable increase starting from fifth grade, according to the school records. His reflexes were far better than anticipated—the brat had even been able to dodge some of the shots Reborn had fired at him, purely on instinct.

It _could_ be the Hyper Intuition acting up, but just because the mind _knew_ didn't mean the body could _follow_. Tsuna wasn't in any clubs or sports, so either he exercised for some unknown reason or he'd been through some sort of training.

More than all of that, he'd had the nerve to _argue_ against Reborn, conviction aglow in his eyes, face mulishly-set, that _no_ , he _wasn't_ going to be a mafia boss no matter what, and _that was that._

Not that Reborn would _listen_ to Tsuna in truth—it was his mission and _he_ didn't _ever_ fail missions—but it was somewhat impressive nonetheless.

Sawada Tsunayoshi wasn't quite the useless, helpless idiot that Reborn had been led to believe he was.

"Hieeee! How am I going to face Kyoko-chan today?!" Tsuna gripped at his head, tugging at his hair violently.

But he was still an idiot. Apparently, that impressive will only showed up when someone was threatening to drown his future in blood and crime. Shame. "Hiding is not mafia boss behavior."

"I told you, I don't want to be a mafia boss! And I'm not going to hide either!"

"Greetings, Sawada-san." The cool alto voice was clearly feminine and came directly from behind Tsuna.

"Hiiieeeee!" He jumped three feet into the air and whirled around, eyes wide. "Masami-san!"

Unconcerned, Reborn turned to face the newcomer as well, having sensed the other's presence a minute ago. Few professionals could hide from the World's Greatest Hitman. A middle school student stood no chance at all.

Hibari Masami stared down at him with steel gray eyes, dressed in a formal black and white outfit that didn't match Namimori Middle's uniform. She held herself with an air of dignity , her fan—a gunsen, the "decorations" capable of slicing a man into shreds—hiding the bottom half of her face.

Reborn identified her as Tsuna's sole friend, a well-liked girl with a seemingly flawless record. A part of the Disciplinary Committee, her grades were excellent, her composure unruffled. An ordinary civilian with a bright, lawful future ahead of her, untouched by the darker aspects of her family's activities...or so it seemed.

It was a good thing Reborn only believed what he saw with his own two eyes.

Because this girl was trained in reconnaissance, in observation. Her eyes were too sharp, her steps too soft, her bearing too confident. Her frame was slender, but her muscles were strong, conditioned from strenuous use. She was so poised, so still.

This wasn't the look of someone innocent of a family of assassins and killers, power and justice, men of steel and women of blades. This wasn't the look of a citizen looking forward to becoming a veterinarian.

It seemed Tsuna had already drawn in a fascinating individual. He wondered if she had any Flame Potential.

"And your companion happens to be...?" Masami inquired delicately, eyes flicking momentarily to his student...who had straightened up from his slouch, as if the girl's mere presence had been enough to insert a titanium backbone into the boy.

"Ciaossu," Reborn chirped without giving Tsuna time to say anything. "I am Reborn, the Vongola Hitman, and Dame-Tsuna's home tutor."

 _'Now...how will Hibari Masami react?'_ he thought to himself, tuning out Tsuna's horrified stare. _'Will she dismiss me as a child playing pretend as normal people do or...?'_

"Is that so?" Masami bowed, smiling faintly. "Greetings, my name is Hibari Masami. Please take good care of me."

Not a trace of disbelief or indulgence, Reborn noted, dipping his fedora in return. She'd talked to him as if to an equal with all the respect that deserved. It had been a very long time since someone not in the know had done that.

"If I may ask," she said, attention on Reborn, the foreign baby and not Tsuna, the teenage friend, "what are you tutoring Sawada-san in? I was under the impression that his grades were sufficient for the time being."

Reborn didn't miss the sharp look Masami sent Tsuna—as if to say they had _better_ be sufficient or else—who shook his head frantically in denial. So, she had been the one to motivate his student before? And judging from the slight apprehension in Tsuna's eyes, her ways had not been purely kind by society's standards.

The hitman approved. Sorely.

He contemplated whether or not he should tell the truth—he was fairly certain she would believe him—but the girl was smart. She would figure it out eventually, and with his uncertain, clumsy student evidently both daunted by her and fond of her, it would be child's play to wiggle the truth out of Tsuna if she so wished.

"It's my job to train Tsuna to become the Vongola Decimo," Reborn declared. "The head of the largest, strongest mafia famiglia in Italy."

Tsuna choked and went pale as he froze and stared in dread at Masami, who merely blinked, eyes tightening minutely. "Reborn! You can't say things like that in broad daylight!" he yelled. "M-Masami-san—"

Masami turned to pin her gaze on Tsuna, no rebuke, dubiety, or condemnation on what was visible of her face, but a certain exacting element to her gaze. "Are you saying he's lying to me, Sawada-san?"

Tsuna's jaw dropped to the ground, his eyes dashing from his tutor to his classmate and then back. It was a clear lose-lose situation for the boy. If he lied and said yes, Reborn would put him through hell, and Tsuna knew it. If he told the truth and said no...

That would just open a new can of worms. Which was exactly what Reborn had intended from the start. He needed to learn how to navigate these types of situations.

"Err...uhh...no...?" Tsuna managed weakly, grimacing. A mistake, the hitman thought at once, a mafia boss should never show weakness, but before Reborn could...ahem, _correct_ his new charge, he was beaten to it.

The fan was snapped shut and introduced to the back of Tsuna's skull with a speed and precision that Reborn could appreciate. Tsuna went down with a screech that sounded more resigned than anything, hitting pavement with a thud.

"Please keep your head up and refrain from hesitation, Sawada-san," Masami demurred, walking past the quietly watching Reborn and the fallen Tsuna, dangling kanzashi flowers swaying in the wind. "Also, mafia boss or not, at this rate, you will be late to class."

Hmm, so she'd accepted the truth, after all, and with an impressive lack of fanfare and fuss...and in doing so, accepted Tsuna himself. Reborn would have to keep a close eye on her. Such potential wasn't at all frequent, and Tsuna would need Guardians.

"Wait!" Tsuna called, scrambling to his feet, the speed with which he recovered informing the hitman that this was a common occurrence. His brown eyes shone with mingled apprehension and hope. Interesting. "You mean you don't _mind_?"

"We have already discussed the issue of sheep mentality," Masami tossed back evenly, "so I don't believe there is no reason to revisit it. The bell will ring in five minutes, and unlike me, I doubt Onii-san will take your tardiness kindly."

Tsuna squeaked and started sprinting. An older brother? This would bear investigating, but all things considered, Reborn decided as he walked after his student at a much slower pace, the morning was getting off to a wonderful start.

* * *

Masami watched the so-called "duel" between Mochida and Tsunayoshi from the back of the room, concealed by shadow and ignorance. As a prefect, she supposed she should break it up, but she'd really rather observe silently.

Displaying such negative behavior would have been bad for her reputation anyways.

To her slight gratification, her sort-of student didn't run from the match, most likely knowing that if he had, he would receive a beating from either Reborn or Masami, whoever got to him first. Pragmatic behavior was acceptable, but taking the coward's way out was not.

"Do you think he'll win?" The baby who had shown up two minutes ago spoke from his position on her shoulder, sounding more detached than worried.

"It's highly possible," Masami allowed reluctantly. "If he keeps a cool head and doesn't panic, he should be fine." Although, that armor that those two students were lugging forward was...odd. Unbalanced.

"You've been training him, haven't you?"

"For the past three years. If he loses, would you mind giving him my regards?" In the most violent way possible. Mochida might be the Captain of the Kendo Club, but he was hardly, _hardly_ a proper dance partner, especially with the level Tsunayoshi should be at by now.

"Of course." Reborn sounded more or less delighted to do so. "It's hardly proper behavior for a mafia boss to lose."

"...Mochida-san's cheating," Masami commented when Tsunayoshi almost collapsed to the ground after donning the armor.

"That armor is far too heavy for Dame-Tsuna, yes."

"Weight training later, perhaps?"

"I'll take care of it."

"The judge...is also a member of the kendo club."

"Favoritism then." Reborn shrugged, stroking the back of his chameleon. "This'll be a good test for him."

Tsunayoshi put up a decent show, Masami admitted, despite his handicaps. He was able to block Mochida's hits and even got a few blows in himself, not that it mattered since the judge refused to raise the flag for him.

"It's time," the hitman suddenly proclaimed, a gun appearing in his hands. "He needs to die."

He _was_ losing, perhaps a minute away from being humiliated in front of the entire class—and even if he did, Masami would teach Mochida a lesson later about calling Kyoko a _prize_ —but she tensed nonetheless.

No one, not even the Greatest Hitman in the World, was allowed to kill Tsunayoshi.

The only reason she kept herself from interfering promptly via tessen was because she knew Tsunayoshi was also Vongola's new Heir. It wouldn't do for him to be murdered by his tutor. Still, she said, low and almost offhand, "Die?"

"It won't be permanent," Reborn chirped and shot Tsunayoshi in the head.

It happened fast. There was a spurt of blood, a thump as he fell to the floor and the room exploded into chaos...and then he was leaping to his feet, his clothes and armor _disintegrating,_ and shouting at the top of his lungs about how he would defeat Mochida.

"...please explain," Masami requested as Tsunayoshi charged forward, forgoing grace for a headlong rush that resulted in Mochida's bokken breaking and a devastating head-butt. Which was...effective, if utterly crude and klutzy.

"That was the Dying Will Bullet," Reborn said while Tsunayoshi ripped a handful of hair off of Mochida's head, the judge, of course, not giving him the point. "If someone regrets while they die, they are reborn in Dying Will Mode."

She connected the explanation to Kyoko's story easily, mentally face-palming at the thought that his last regret had been being unable to confess properly. Said boy was kicking Mochida in the chest at the moment. "And that is...?"

"Dying Will Mode switches off a person's safety limiters in exchange for them risking their life, granting them great strength, power, and invulnerability. For five minutes." According to the clock, three minutes and twenty seconds had already passed.

She eyeballed the stunning orange flame on Tsunayoshi's forehead with deliberation, wondering if she would have to warn her brother that the school might burn down. "There are no consequences?" In all the stories, power necessitated a trade-off.

"Not for now," Reborn said as Mochida abruptly turned bald and bawled his eyes out. Perhaps Tsunayoshi had been affected by her nonchalant ruthlessness? Or was it this "Dying Will Mode"? "Later, there will be."

"Lethal?"

"I won't let Dame-Tsuna die. It's my job to see him become a magnificent mafia boss and he can't become the Vongola Decimo if he's a corpse." A reasonable justification, one that she would accept for the time being.

"Thank you for the clarification." Masami rose to her feet, Reborn jumping off with ease. "Would you please inform Sawada-san he is to come over for tea on Saturday at two o'clock? I'm sure you already know where I live."

"Certainly. He'll be there."

"Goodbye, Reborn-san."

"Ciao ciao."

As she left through the side exits, Masami noticed a flash of green from the corner of her eyes.

* * *

Masami sat on a zabuton in front of the chabudai, sipping black tea in a white kimono with silver embroidery. The familiar ritual was comforting as she thought about the recent developments.

Tsunayoshi had been hit with the Dying Will Bullet again, this time because he had been dragged into the Volleyball Tournament. He had grown much stronger than the weak boy in fifth grade, but to jump that high was still out of his reach.

The Vongola Decimo...

Even though she had been aware of Sawada Iemitsu's true position and job, she'd never expected Tsunayoshi, civilian, pacifist, and fluffy, to become so directly involved with the Mafia, much less be the heir to the Vongola. It was nearly alarming.

Despite Tsunayoshi's vehement protests, Masami could see that Reborn had no intention of listening and would complete his mission with whatever means necessary. The baby hitman was a very good dancer, much better than they were at the moment.

She had caught on to that fact almost immediately, one of the many reasons she had chosen not to interfere with whatever he had planned, despite her own possessive nature. Yes, Masami had claimed Tsunayoshi as _hers_ a long time ago, hers to train and protect and mold, but she could be a graceful loser.

There was no need to get in a dance she couldn't win and potentially drag her brother and family into the mess as well, especially since the baby didn't mean the fluffy boy any (permanent) harm.

The dancer knew what she had managed to make the boy into in the span of three relatively peaceful years. She would see what this cursed baby could make the boy into with the help of chaos and danger.

So, Masami would step aside and watch and occasionally assist, all the while knowing Sawada Tsunayoshi would either die or eventually become Vongola Decimo. He might burn the syndicate to the ground in the end because his morals were just that _unshakable,_ but the ascension would happen first.

And what would that mean for her? She was no fool; she knew that Reborn's interest had been piqued. In the whole of Namimori, she was probably the second best dancer, with her brother as _the_ best.

A mafia boss needed subordinates. And Masami was Tsunayoshi's friend, if not mentor, confidant, and advocate. It wasn't hard to see where this was going.

Sadly for Reborn, Masami wasn't willing to entertain the idea of submitting to _anyone_ , much less someone currently weaker than she was. Onii-san, Okaa-san, and Otou-san were one thing—and they hadn't really been asking for submission—but Tsunayoshi?

Absolutely _not._

He was one of the few beings she voluntarily interacted with on a daily basis, but her freedom, her _freedom._ Kyoya understood her, and Masami understood him; neither of them ever tried to chain down the other by words or actions no matter the circumstances.

Becoming part of the Vongola Famiglia would tie her down, even more than Namimori kept her trapped. And she couldn't stand the thought of that, couldn't entertain the idea of staying in a gilded cage of rotten politics and broken promises.

Not to mention, Tsunayoshi was just too...soft for her. She appreciated his compassion, his kindness, but that wasn't what Masami needed in a leader.

Kyoya walked into the room on silent feet, though she sensed his presence immediately.

"Tea, Onii-san?"

"Hn." Relaxing onto a cushion opposite her, gray eyes sharp. "You've offered an invitation?"

"Hai. Reborn-san should be here in an hour or so. Sawada-san as well." If nothing else, the Italian would drag her poor classmate over for the experience of dancing with a skilled partner. Masami was certain of it because she would have done the same.

Kyoya frowned. "The herbivore?" he identified with distaste. Tsunayoshi might have improved, but he was far from Onii-san's level.

"If you want to dance with the carnivore..." Masami trailed off and sipped at her tea serenely. It wasn't as if she would leave her brother and her charge alone together.

That would be disastrous. And Tsunayoshi might end up in the hospital. For all of her "challenging" training methods, she did understand the concept of acceptable limits and boundaries.

Kyoya twitched. "If he gets in my way, I'll bite him to death." With that winning promise, he got to his feet and stalked out of the room. "I'll be in the training room."

Masami hummed in response and began to prepare some snacks for the approaching guests. Knowing Tsunayoshi, he would be freaking out and nearing fainting status by the time he got here.

She had been working on his confidence, but the Skylark tended to inspire fear in near everyone he met.

* * *

Precisely one hour later, there was a hesitant knock on the door. Upon pulling it open, Masami was amused to find that her prediction was perfectly accurate.

Tsunayoshi stared at her with wide eyes, anxiety written all over his face. Having been persistent in her refusal to visit the Sawada household, Masami had never welcomed him into her home, with the exception of that time with the yakuza, and most certainly not when Kyoya was around.

In comparison, the hitman that stood next to Tsunayoshi was wholly relaxed and greeted Masami with a mischievous smile and a "Ciaossu!" She was fairly certain that Reborn _had_ , in fact, dragged her classmate over against his will, but said nothing.

Instead, Masami smiled and bowed. "Greetings, Sawada-san, Reborn-san. Please, come in."

Tsunayoshi saw fit to gift her with a deer-in-headlights look. He didn't move an inch.

Inwardly sighing, she was about to remind him that it was impolite to simply stare when Reborn kicked sharply at his ankle, resulting in a cut-off shriek and rabbit-like hopping around. "Be a gentleman and answer her, Dame-Tsuna," the hitman ordered.

Tsunayoshi grumbled, to Masami's slight amusement, before looking back up at her with a sheepish smile and bowing appropriately. "Thanks for inviting us, Masami-san."

She nodded in acknowledgement and tilted her head marginally to signal the student and tutor to follow her. "Shoes off please." Tatami mats weren't built for the heavy trend.

"Oh. Right."

After they obeyed, Masami turned and led them smoothly through the hallways of her home, taking no notice of the way Tsunayoshi looked around with curious eyes. He had been too rattled that one time before to pay attention to his surroundings, a failing he appeared eager to correct now.

Both Masami and Kyoya were traditionalists in the end. While Kyoya had his ideas on immaculate dress, acceptable rules, and correct conduct, Masami valued impeccable manners, appropriate respect, and classic rituals.

Between her, who couldn't stand cluster, and her brother, who hated excessive adornments, their home was on the conservative side. The walls were blank, but for some kanji and old paintings. Other than the occasional potted plant and simple bouquets, there was a general lack of color.

Nonetheless, there was the raw beauty of a traditional Japanese house: fusuma panels, shoji screens, and all.

"Your home is beautiful," he said quietly as they approached two solid wooden doors in the far left wing of the massive mansion that was the ancient Hibari property, clear awe in his voice.

She smiled softly and pushed one of the doors open, holding it so that Tsunayoshi and Reborn could enter first. "Thank you, Sawada-san."

Tsunayoshi smiled sincerely at her as he passed, and for a moment, Masami felt mildly guilty. Silly boy. What had she said about being aware of danger?

Although from the smirk on Reborn's face before a tilt of his fedora concealed it in shadow, the hitman knew full well what was waiting for Tsunayoshi beyond the doors.

Masami slipped into the training room and closed the door behind her, leaning on the cool wood and turning her attention to Tsunayoshi just in time to see him pale drastically and sway in place as he caught sight of Kyoya.

Onii-san went through his final set of katas, ignoring the guests until he was finished. Unfurling himself, he smirked wickedly, eyes on Reborn and completely ignoring Tsunayoshi's presence. "Baby, I want to fight you."

"Maybe later," Reborn refuted even as he pushed Tsunayoshi forward, clearly against the boy's will, judging by the frantic eyes and sweaty face. "Tsuna will fight instead."

Oh? Masami raised an eyebrow thoughtfully. Tsunayoshi wasn't at all near Kyoya's level, despite the improvements to his combat ability, so unless that Dying Will Bullet was used...

But that was probably the point.

"Hiiiiieeee!" Then again, that tendency to screech like a banshee that neither Masami nor Reborn had been able to beat out of him yet would certainly not _impress_ Onii-san.

As expected, Kyoya flicked a disdainful glance at Tsunayoshi and dismissed him of being worthy of attention. "That herbivore is hardly a good opponent. Baby, fight me."

"How about this? Tsuna will fight you for five minutes, and if he loses before that time, I'll fight you," Reborn proposed, ignoring Tsunayoshi's hissed protests and outcries. The way he was waving his arms, you would think he was trying to learn how to fly.

Kyoya considered it. The herbivore was just that—a _herbivore_ —but the carnivore wasn't going to let any other arrangement suffice, and this _was_ the herbivore his sister had been accompanying for the past four years or so.

So. Might as well see how successful Masami had been.

"Fine. Prepare to be bitten to death, herbivore," he intoned, settling into a crouch and raising his weapons. Kyoya would make this quick and fast, and then move on to fight against the Sun Arcobaleno.

Tsunayoshi grimaced and cast a pleading look towards Masami, who merely smiled half-encouragingly and half-threateningly as Reborn walked back to stand next to her. There would be no help from her.

Sighing—he was _so_ going to die today—Tsunayoshi nevertheless squared his shoulders and stepped forward to slide into a combat position in the center of the room, resigned eyes fixed on Kyoya. This would be a curious dance indeed.

Kyoya didn't hesitate and lunged forward, aiming to strike the younger boy unconscious in a swift, brutal blow. But Tsunayoshi ducked under the tonfa, and even from where she was standing, Masami saw Kyoya's eyes widen. He hadn't expected that. At all.

"Wao," he purred. Then, Kyoya bared his teeth in a wild grin and began to fight in earnest.

It was a rather one-sided fight, all things considered. Kyoya went at Tsunayoshi without hesitation or reserve, and Tsunayoshi dodged, weaved, and eluded every last blow, not even bothering to try and get a hit in himself.

Just as well, too, as even a single connected impact would result in painful defeat. Kyoya was attempting to get a handle on this new opponent's strength and potential, but he wasn't holding much back either.

"Sawada-san won't last long at this rate," Masami observed, momentarily bending down to offer Reborn her shoulder, an offer that was rapidly accepted. "He's doing well, all things considered." Onii-san could be terrifying on the floor.

"No problem," Reborn chirped, raising the gun that had suddenly showed up in his hand. "I never expected Dame-Tsuna to go against Hibari Kyoya for much longer anyway." Two minutes had already passed in the blur of battle.

She didn't answer directly but watched as Tsunayoshi twisted around a downward strike and skipped backward, almost suffering a blow to the head. Ten seconds later, his footing faltered for but a moment—

"Fight with a dying will." Reborn fired without hesitation. Kyoya leaped back automatically at the sound of gunfire, his eyes darting between his sister and his opponent. Tsunayoshi jerked, the bullet entering his forehead, and fell back.

"...Is this it?" Kyoya scowled with a trace of disappointment, tonfa lowering slightly. Three minutes had passed. "Pathetic. Masami, what was that—"

"REBORN!" Tsunayoshi yelled, an orange flame appearing in the center of his forehead and his clothes, barring his underwear, tearing to nothingness as he jumped to his feet. "I'LL DEFEAT HIBARI-SAN WITH MY DYING WILL!"

"Too loud," Kyoya and Masami said at the same time, in the same blank tone, though Kyoya followed the annoyed comment up with lunging at Tsunayoshi once more, scowl deepening. "Shut up."

Tsunayoshi let loose with a berserker sort of shout and drew back a fist. The smack of flesh against metal echoed audibly, and then they were moving again, this time with Tsunayoshi actually able to get in some offense in.

"It's still not enough," Masami said, frowning when a tonfa hit Tsunayoshi's side hard enough to bruise, at the very least, while the returning fist was dodged effortlessly. "He's...reckless in this state." No plan, no tactics, no strategy.

"Hmm," Reborn agreed, black eyes tracking Tsunayoshi, who was bashed in the jaw harshly and then kicked into a wall, his flame spluttering out. "But five minutes have already passed."

"Tch." Having heard the statement, Kyoya straightened up and glared at Reborn, but didn't demand another fight. Rules were rules, after all. Instead, he put away his tonfa and turned to look at Masami, who obligingly stepped away from the door.

"You will continue to train the herbivore," Kyoya ordered over his shoulder as he headed off to the bathroom for a shower, "and he will come here every weekend for a spar." He left without bothering to wait for a response.

"Would that be alright with you, Reborn-san?" Masami inquired lightly, gathering up a water bottle and a towel for Tsunayoshi, who was beginning to peel himself off the floor with a groan.

"Sure. It'll be good practice for Tsuna. He learns better through direct experience." While Masami _had_ beaten the basics into Reborn's student, she hadn't truly pushed him for more than the ability to protect himself.

But the Vongola Decimo needed more than to be able to protect himself. He needed to protect his Famiglia, and that required strength, experience, and resolve. And that was best gained through unrelenting battle.

She nodded and knelt next to Tsunayoshi, cataloging his injuries with a glance. Nothing too serious; Onii-san had gone—relatively—easy on him. "Drink."

"Ah...thanks, Masami-san," he said, smiling ruefully up at her. Swallowing several mouthfuls of water, Tsunayoshi dragged himself to his feet, shoulders slumping with exhaustion.

"You did well," Masami praised, knowing she had surprised him when his head snapped up and honey-brown eyes widened. "You'll do better next time." There was nothing but absolute certainty in her voice, and he heard it.

Tsunayoshi ducked his head, but she saw his smile stretch across his face, bright and happy and proud. "...yeah. Thanks, Masami-san."

"Don't think that means you can slack off, Dame-Tsuna," Reborn warned, whacking his student on the head none too gently, based on the startled yelp.

"Reborn!"

* * *

"So," Masami started off after Tsunayoshi left to take a shower. "The Vongola Decimo." She poured the boiled water into the teapot and started on the coffee, movements efficient and practiced.

"The Tenth Head of the Vongola Famiglia," Reborn confirmed, taking a seat on one of the zabuton set out in the sitting room. "One of the most powerful mafia syndicates in the world."

"Am I to take this for the reason there was a transfer request for a Gokudera Hayato from Italy?" she questioned airily, grinding the coffee beans up without missing a beat. Learning how to make coffee had been one of Okaa-san's requirements, although Masami rarely needed to do so at home.

"Probably," he said. "Where did you hear that from?"

"The Disciplinary Committee is very powerful in Namimori. I'm the... secretary." Not exactly, but close enough.

"That so? I would approve that request if I were you." Calm, easy, not a _hint_ of threat.

She wasn't fooled. "Onii-san already has." Kyoya couldn't care less whether or not a student might be Mafia.

"Good." She could hear the smug smile in the hitman's voice. "Gokudera will be a good test for Tsuna."

"Will you continue to test Sawada-san until you deem him ready to be a mafia boss?" That sounded rather...dubious.

"But of course." Reborn nodded in thanks when she pushed the cup of coffee to his side.

Masami sat in seiza with careless grace, pouring a cup of tea for herself. "Why?"

"It's my mission."

"From who?" The Vongola, definitely, but _who_ of the Vongola.

A sharp look from the deadly predator that faced her. "It's not important right now."

She supposed she couldn't win every fight. "How's the coffee?"

Reborn took a sip and hummed. "Too mild. Do better next time."

"As you wish," she demurred sweetly.

He peered closely at her, black eyes uncomfortably knowing. It seemed to be a trend among the Arcobaleno, especially since their age and experience contrasted so sharply with their appearance. "What do you want to ask me, Masami?"

"What might your plans be," Masami said slowly, meeting those eyes squarely, because, even here, even now, it was beneath her to show unease, "regarding Onii-san and I?" This...indulgence was suspicious, superfluous. He wanted something from them.

Masami didn't like it.

Reborn smirked. "You two would be good additions to Tsuna's famiglia."

She paused and took a sip of tea, refraining from continuing the conversation until she was sure her face and body revealed nothing. "I don't believe Onii-san would agree." _She_ didn't agree.

"Persuading him would be up to Tsuna," the Italian concurred with a shrug. "And in your case as well."

Masami didn't quite have the chance to reply before Tsunayoshi stumbled in, but that was fine. She didn't know what her reply would have been anyway.

* * *

"Ow..." Tsuna whimpered, collapsing on a zabuton in the sitting room after showering. The dark blue yukata that he wore was just a tad too big, but it was better than his original, sweat-soaked clothes, so he didn't complain.

But, God, Hibari hit _hard_. Blue and purple bruises were already blooming all over his pale skin. Tsuna knew the drill after training with Masami, even though his classmate had never, _ever_ pushed him this far; he was going to wake up sore and aching for the next few days.

"Finally back, Dame-Tsuna?" Reborn sat next to him, drinking a cup of coffee with a sophistication that looked really out of place on an infant. "It's bad form to keep someone waiting for so long."

"Hey! I'm the guest here!" Dissent completed, Tsuna promptly turned to Masami, who sat on the other side of the table with a teacup, and bowed. "I'm sorry for taking so long, Masami-san!" He was well-trained, after all.

While Reborn's eye twitched irritably, Masami merely smiled, a glint of approval in her eyes. Tsuna resisted the urge to light up like a lantern. "Don't worry about it, Sawada-san. I understand that Reborn-san is to take my place as your tutor?"

"Err...yeah." Tsuna winced, feeling guilty even though it wasn't exactly _his_ fault. "I'm sorry, I know this is sudden, and I really appreciate everything that you've done for me, but my mom just sprung this on me and I didn't have a cl—"

"Please stop rambling," Masami said at the same time that Reborn punched him in the side and barked, "Dame-Tsuna, babbling is unseemly."

They went still and stared at one another while Tsuna's blood ran cold. Oh... Oh no...they couldn't do this to him...one Spartan tutor was scary, but—

"Well, you seem like a good influence on Dame-Tsuna, so feel free to stick around," Reborn said with a (falsely) innocent smile. "You could even give me a hand now and then."

"I would be honored," Masami answered with an angelic smile—' _danger! danger!'_ Tsuna's senses shrieked—"Perhaps you'd like to know the extent of my efforts before more progress can be made?"

"Go right on ahead."

"Nooooooooo!" Tsuna broke down, clutching wildly at his head and banging his fist on the ground. " _Two_ Spartan tutors?! I'm not going to make it! I didn't know it was possible, but Reborn's _worse_ than Masami-san and— "

A cuff to the head sent him slamming down into the floor with his signature, "Hiiiieeee!"

"That...noise needs to go." He heard Masami remark through the roar of blood in his ears.

"Once he goes through my training, it absolutely will," Reborn guaranteed with an evil smile.

Poor Tsuna could only curl up into a ball and cry silently for his doomed future.

* * *

"So that's your herbivore?" Kyoya sounded a tad disgruntled that night over dinner, frowning at Masami.

She raised an eyebrow, unruffled. "I doubt Sawada-san would appreciate being called 'mine.'"

A fluid shrug. "It's the truth." As far as they saw it anyway.

Masami sighed. "I take it you are satisfied with the time I have 'wasted'?"

"He's not a carnivore." Which, from Kyoya, would count as a "maybe." A far better judgment than what was passed on ninety-nine percent of the town, surely.

"Not yet, but he'll get there eventually." With Reborn training him—she was not ignorant of Tsunayoshi's plight, having seen that sadistic glint—the boy would either become a carnivore or die.

It was just that simple.

The next morning, bright and early, Masami paid a visit to Gokudera Hayato.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OpalescentGold: Whew! It's about time I got this chapter out! To be honest, I've had it written up for a while now, but since I keep changing my mind about the following chapters, there was a heck of a lot of editing. So, Masami and Reborn meet, Tsuna finds himself under the boots of two Spartan teachers, and Hibaris don't like being controlled. At all.
> 
> Also, Masami is pragmatic despite her possessive tendencies and gives up the fluffy herbivore to be disciplined by the Greatest Hitman in the World. Kyoya gains a very, very, very small amount of respect for said fluffy herbivore, and hormones, middle school, and crushes can be awfully confusing, as spoken from personal experience.
> 
> A million thanks to my beta for the quick, speedy, and beautiful edits! Oh, and if anyone wants to follow me, I'm on [tumblr](https://opalescentgold.tumblr.com/). Please leave a comment!~
> 
> Chabudai: tables with short legs, used in conjunction with zabuton when eating as a family.
> 
> Fusuma: sliding panels that act as doors and walls.
> 
> Futon: thin bedding meant for sleeping
> 
> Genkan: main entrance to a house.
> 
> Ikebana: the art of flower arrangement.
> 
> Ranma: panels found above shoji or fusuma that are designed to let light into the room.
> 
> Seiza: formal way of sitting, kneeling with legs folded underneath.
> 
> Shamisen: three-stringed musical instrument.
> 
> Shodo: the art of calligraphy.
> 
> Tatami: mat floors traditionally made of rice straw.
> 
> Tessenjutsu: martial art of the war fan.
> 
> Uchiwa: flat-faced fans.
> 
> Zabuton: thin pillows used as cushions to sit on.
> 
> Zhuazhou: Chinese tradition on a child's first birthday; the parents place an assortment of items in front of their child and what the child chooses is said to determine their future inclinations and capabilities.


	4. Tarantella

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OpalescentGold: I do not own Katekyo Hitman Reborn!

_Tarantella: a rapid whirling Italian dance in 6/8 time, usually mimicking either courtship or a sword fight._

* * *

As it turned out, Gokudera Hayato lived in the middle-class part of town, the apartment he had recently rented out suspiciously close to the Sawada Residence.

Honestly, it was as if that boy was becoming a magnet for trouble. After a moment of thought, Masami decided not to dismiss the idea outright, just in case.

Strolling casually up the road to the apartment at the brink of dawn, Masami knocked on Room 37's door and waited. Two minutes later, the door was yanked open ferociously and familiar emerald green eyes glared out at her. "What!?"

'Rude,' was her first true impression. 'Foreign delinquent,' was the second. Neither was much of a good one.

Gokudera Hayato was a teenager with shoulder-length silver hair and a dark scowl, pale skin and sharp features. He wore several gaudy necklaces, bracelets, and belts, all of which were quite unneeded, in her humble opinion.

He was also very obviously _not_ wearing the school uniform.

Of course. What else had she been expecting?

Inwardly, she reminded herself of his test scores, of his so-called genius, of the very interesting phone call she'd had with a family contact. Appearances were deceiving, Masami herself being a prime example.

On the surface, Masami kept her composure and bowed shallowly. "Greetings. I am Hibari Masami, the Secretary of the Disciplinary Committee of Namimori Middle School. I'm here to brief you on your situation as a transfer student."

Normally, this would be Onii-san's job, but, well, that wasn't a good idea. For both parties.

"Tch, I don't need briefing," Hayato snarled, staring at her with wary eyes. "Why don't you just go back to wherever the hell you came from?"

"That would be fine, but I'm afraid you would then be asked to return to wherever _you_ came from," she replied without missing a beat, snapping her fan open to air herself. "Which will it be, Gokudera-san?"

If it was at all possible, Hayato's scowl deepened further, but he pushed off the doorway with a glare and spun on his heel to stalk inside. Masami took the concession for what it was and followed him serenely, closing the door behind her.

Instantly, the nauseating scent of smoke assaulted her senses. A quick glance around found the source: a small tray on the black table held three cigarette butts, all clearly used and not long ago, to boot.

Ah, lovely. Smoking was prohibited by school regulations. Onii-san would be furious the second he heard. At least the Italian hadn't shown any inclination to vandalism yet. Although, with what he was known for in the Underworld...

Masami reigned in a sigh and turned her attention to the apartment.

The walls were a pale cream, the rug beneath feet a deep black. The majority of the furniture was dark in color as well, a small TV placed on a black table against the wall. It was a very clean, very simple design that was also rather conspicuously lacking any signs of being lived in.

Was he not planning on staying in Namimori long? Or did he simply not see this place as home? Neither boded well, and Masami took care to keep her face blank and prevent her eyes from narrowing.

For all of his unpleasantness, Gokudera Hayato moved with the air of someone who knew combat. Certainly, 'Smokin' Bomb' was a pointed epithet. The faint outlines beneath his clothes hinted that he wasn't exactly helpless at the moment either.

Just as she settled down on a couch, a flicker of black and white caught her eye. A large object was placed just around the corner. She wouldn't be able to see it unless she physically got up and walked over, but the shadow looked like—

"Alright, spit it out," Hayato grumbled, flinging an arm over the adjacent black couch's back and cutting into her thoughts. "I have better things to do than this."

Masami didn't react to the disrespect beyond a slow blink. However, she did take a slight vindictive pleasure in his flinch at the loud bang the encyclopedic-sized rulebook she retrieved made when it collided with the heavy oak table in-between them.

"What the hell is that?" he yelped, eyeballing the book with a mildly disturbed look.

She smiled agreeably. "'That' would be the rules and regulations regarding Namimori Middle School and the Namimori Town in general. Please look over them all—you are liable to get hurt otherwise."

While Hayato gaped, Masami went on smoothly, "Unfortunately, cigarettes are banned in Namimori Middle, so I'll have to ask you to refrain from smoking in school. It is expected that each and every student attending will be wearing the school uniform unless the Disciplinary Committee has specifically noted otherwise. Please take note that anyone disrupting the peace will be punished."

She paused and observed his incredulous expression with some measure of well-hidden satisfaction. "Do you have any questions for me?"

He spluttered in outrage. "H-Hold it, who do you think you—"

"Excellent. If that is all, I will be taking my leave." Masami rose to her feet and smiled politely. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Gokudera-san. I dearly hope that there will be no cause to do so again in the future."

And she let herself out.

* * *

Masami lounged on the veranda and thought absently that she might need to thank Reborn later. All those years and she had barely exchanged five words with her father when he was out taking care of business, and now, here they were.

Albeit, Satoshi didn't sound very happy at the moment. _"You're childhood friends with the future Vongola Decimo."_

Masami didn't hesitate to pitch her voice guileless and innocent. "Otou-san, I wasn't aware Sawada-san was connected with the Vongola in any way when we first met," she said. "When I found out, I'm afraid it was much too late for anything to change."

She didn't mention that she'd honestly had no intentions of letting things change. Oh, Masami could have cut her ties then and there, could have rejected Tsunayoshi so harshly and coldly that he would have backed off himself, but she hadn't.

Masami hadn't wanted to, out of some strange, twisted sense of responsibility perhaps. There was no point in starting something without following through, and the only one at the time who might have been able to change her mind had been Kyoya.

Kyoya, who might or might not have entertained that thought once or twice himself. He had definitely disapproved of the herbivore, and even now, after Tsunayoshi had finally won a measure of grudging respect from the Skylark, Kyoya remained dismissive of the boy.

But, that was alright. Her brother was willing to wait, willing to guide Tsunayoshi through the more complicated dances with violent reminders and nudges, and with Reborn also at the helm, Tsunayoshi would be shaping up in no time.

More importantly, while Kyoya might have considered forcibly separating Masami from Tsunayoshi, he had never actually done anything. That was the general rule of thumb that had kept the two siblings from snarling at each other for all of these years.

So, in the end, even with the introduction of the Vongola in the mix, neither of them had done anything to change the status quo, although Masami had increased her vigilance.

Otou-san's voice came out stern. Disappointed. _"You should have told me."_

Masami squashed the flicker of guilt down, unnerved by her own unease. It was rare, nowadays. "There was no need. Sawada-san's father may be the head of CEDEF, but Sawada-san himself was an ordinary citizen with no knowledge of the Mafia."

He scoffed quietly. "Do _you think that matters? Sawada Iemitsu, the Young Lion of Vongola would not be lenient regarding his family's safety. If he believed you or your brother posed a threat to his son, do you truly believe you would survive the death he would bring down?"_

She opened her mouth to argue and then shut it, mind whirling as she considered all the pieces she had in her grasp. The Hibaris were a powerful family. Kyoya and Masami were, as far as she knew, the babies of said family though they _were_ powerful in their own right, and if even Otou-san was wary of this Vongola—

Well.

Okaa-san had always warned her about being overconfident. Her mind inadvertently pulled up images of assassins sneaking into Namimori under the cover of night, and _oh_ , she despised the thought that she might have endangered those who were hers because of an arrogant miscalculation.

"...my apologies, Otou-san," Masami said. It stung at her pride to admit a mistake, but then, self-denial wasn't a very good road to walk down. Better to deal with this issue now, akin to ripping off a band-aid, than to let it simmer and grow into a monstrosity.

Satoshi sighed. _"Rika taught you secrecy, Masami. But don't forget that some secrets are too dangerous for you to hold onto."_

"I understand." Briefly, she wondered if she should inform Tsunayoshi of the true nature of his father's work. Reborn didn't seem willing to. "What can you tell me about the Vongola?"

_"The first thing you need to know is that they didn't start out as Mafia."_

"No?"

_"The man who founded the Vongola Famiglia, Vongola Primo, was said to have begun the organization as a vigilante group. No one truly knows what happened, but it's said that his Mist Guardian eventually revolted and ran him out of Italy. The Vongola started to become what it is today under Vongola Secundo's reign._

"Mist Guardian?" The term as a whole didn't make much sense to her.

_"Guardians are Flame Active individuals Harmonized with a Sky Boss."_ There was a pause. _"You didn't understand a word I just said, did you?"_

"I'm sorry, but no." Although, now Masami had a semblance of an idea of what Reborn wanted from them.

Satoshi sighed again, and slowly, painstakingly, began to explain Dying Will Flames.

* * *

Masami _had_ hoped that Hayato would keep out of trouble. Somehow. Someway.

Alas, it was not to be. Perhaps it was fate. Or perhaps it was a certain Sun Arcobaleno.

"I take it this is your doing?" she asked the baby sitting on the window sill. The transfer student wasn't wearing the school uniform or eating lunch peacefully in some isolated corner. Instead, he was smoking half a dozen cigarettes and flinging _dynamite_ around, yelling threats at Tsunayoshi.

Years of training were the only reason Masami was able to simply lean against the door and watch. She wasn't sure which part of this entire scenario was the most repugnant. Her fingers flexed.

"That's right," Reborn replied, not at all concerned about the student currently frantically dodging dynamite sticks. "I told Gokudera that if he can kill Tsuna, he can become the Vongola Decimo."

She was silent for long heartbeats, calmly tracking Tsunayoshi's movements as he ran this way and that, shouting at Hayato to stop before someone got hurt. "I'd like to believe that I'm smarter than that, Reborn-san," she murmured.

If that was truly the case, after all, then there would be _hordes_ of eager Mafioso pouring into Namimori.

"Heh. I suppose you are," he confirmed nonchalantly. "There's no need to worry, Masami. He's just here to keep Tsuna on his toes."

"And this...test is to gain Sawada-san a new subordinate?" He wasn't actually doing a half-bad job of avoiding the dynamite, but he needed to counterattack soon. That boy had always been rather stubborn about peace and whatnot. Masami hadn't bothered to try and change that aspect of his because—

She knew the value of kindness, of hope and warmth. She knew that sometimes, violence would only make things worse, would only exacerbate a situation. She knew that honey caught more flies than vinegar.

Satoshi and Rika had been clear on this, in their own distinct ways. Rika had taught sweet manners and sly smiles even while she directed Masami through kata after kata. Satoshi had talked about herbivores and carnivores but expanded more on politics and diplomacy.

The Hibaris believed most staunchly in power, but that didn't mean they were blind to all else. Masami was fairly certain that even if she had tried, Tsunayoshi's soft heart was so much an irrefutable part of him that nothing would have changed anyway.

She could respect that, even if she didn't need it.

"Of course," he chirped, smirking mischievously. "A mafia boss needs trustworthy subordinates." She had no doubt that was at least partially directed towards her.

Masami ignored it. "Dead end," she commented as Tsunayoshi boxed himself in. "What now, Reborn-san?"

Reborn just smirked wider and raised his gun. "Fight with a dying will," he ordered and shot.

"No matter how many times I see it..." she muttered to herself, shaking her head slightly when Tsunayoshi fell back and then burst out of his clothes, roaring loudly about putting out the fuses with his 'Dying Will'. Couldn't he be a little quieter about it at least?

"You'll get used to it," he reassured her casually. "You'll probably join the famiglia, too, after all."

Masami didn't deign to respond to that. Tsunayoshi or not, guarding someone for the rest of her life didn't sound all that pleasant to her. Besides, her attention was more preoccupied with the fact that Hayato was handling far too many dynamite sticks at once—the foolish, _foolish_ boy—and predictably, he had dropped one, right near his feet.

That idiot was going to kill himself. And he had the nerve to try and do it before she could get her hands on him, too.

The weight of her fan on her hand was comforting. She hoped rather spitefully that she would break a few bones.

"Wait," Reborn commanded.

Masami hesitated reluctantly.

* * *

Tsuna was still getting used to the idea that Gokudera was now apparently his _subordinate_ —because he somehow won their fight and not because he saved his classmate's life; how in the world did that _work_!?—when a shiver went down his spine and he went pale.

Oh. Oh no.

Tsuna spun around and was met with an avenging angel.

Masami loomed over the frozen boy, the polite smile on her lips more terrible than his greatest nightmares and gray eyes so very, very calm, the eye of the hurricane. Her closed tessen tapped lightly on the palm of her hand in a gentle rhythm.

Tsuna squeaked and fell back. He fought the urge to cry. It would only make things worse if he fell back on his dameness. Not that he would know, because _oh my god, when was the last time Masami was **angry**_ —

Nope. No, nu-uh, Tsuna was pretty sure, very sure, absolutely, positively, completely sure that he'd never, ever, _ever_ seen Masami looking anything more than a tad annoyed, much less angry, and never ever utterly furious. Yeah, there had been that time with the yakuza, but that had been different!

She was almost, practically, sorta angry at _him_ this time!

"Sawada-san," she said, oh-so-quietly, "I'm afraid public indecency is against the school rules. If you simply must destroy your clothes at odd times of the day, then please start bringing along extra sets of school uniforms in your book bag."

Tsuna could only nod hectically, voice having deserted him, and pray that—

"Oi, don't you dare talk to Juudaime with such disrespect!"

Nope. God wouldn't answer his prayers. He was _doomed_.

Or rather, Gokudera was doomed. Tsuna was probably, most likely, certainly doomed by association.

The fan left Masami's hand with a deft flick of her wrist and slammed straight into Gokudera's solar plexus before anyone could blink. Tsuna almost wanted to clap in admiration at the incredible precision and power in the effortless attack.

Almost. Instead, Tsuna winced sympathetically. He knew how much that hurt.

Gokudera bent over on impact with a choked-off gasp, all the air in his lungs successfully forced out and his unlit dynamite sticks falling to the ground. He was thrown back by the force behind the steel fan and fell back onto the ground, dazed.

"And you, Gokudera-san." Masami turned gracefully on Gokudera, to Tsuna's tremendous relief and slight guilt. He didn't think his new...err, subordinate slash classmate slash maybe-friend realized the trouble he was getting into by interfering with a Hibari Masami on the warpath.

Still, what Gokudera had done _was_ really, really dangerous, and Masami was well within her rights to reprimand him for it, both as an almost victim—hahaha, not really, that was (not) funny—and a prefect.

She was much better at making lessons stick than him anyways. Exhibit A: Tsuna. Exhibit B: Umm...everyone else in their school.

Masami smiled, soft and sweet and sharp, and stalked forward. "Assuming we disregard that I have already informed you that smoking is forbidden, the school uniform is mandatory, and the peace of Namimori is to be kept, there is still that little matter of your usage of _dynamite_ on _school_ grounds."

Gokudera, it seemed, had long-buried survival instincts after all. He scrambled to his feet and backed away from her, eyes wide. "What the hell do you think you're d—" he started indignantly, but she cut him off in an uncharacteristic display of rudeness.

"If you were unaware previously, then I'd like to inform you right now that, in the event of a chemical reaction with the science materials located not five meters behind you, your dynamite could have killed not only everyone here, but the many innocent students residing in the school as well." She tilted her head, voice mild and pleasant.

Tsuna's eyes went wide with dismay while Gokudera flinched slightly, lips pressing tightly together. The bomber couldn't seem to be able to find a counter to that and glanced away, face pinched and shoulders tense.

"And please consider, what if," Masami whispered, gaze steady and relentless, breathing colorless, odorless poison into the clean air, "what _if_ , Sawada-san had been just one second slower? Half a second even. I assure you, a _corpse_ has never been of any use to a leader, any leader, let alone a Mafia Boss."

She fell silent ominously. The world held its breath. A chilly wind swept past them, causing the half-dressed Tsuna to tremble. Reborn watched the proceedings behind the shadow of his fedora, making no move whatsoever to interfere.

Picking up her fan and spreading it with a crackle, Masami hid the bottom half of her face behind the silk and steel, pinning Gokudera to his position with her unforgiving eyes alone. "I understand this may be a traumatic experience, but do you have anything you'd like to say, Gokudera-san?"

Gokudera flushed slightly and crossed his arms, eyes lowering to the ground and brow furrowed heavily. He mumbled something under his breath, looking embarrassed and resentful and a tad bemused, like he had never been scolded for not taking care of himself and others before.

One slender eyebrow arched, the smile that pale pink lips tilted into brilliant and merciless. "I'm sorry, but I couldn't quite hear that. Would you please repeat it for me?"

"Jeez, I said it won't fucking happen again, alright!?" Gokudera finally spat out, glaring hell-bent at Masami. "You happy now!? Fuck off, you self-righteous witch! You're not even in the Mafia! What the hell do you know about how we do things!?"

Oh. _Oh_. Tsuna wanted to be back in his bed, preferably under his blankets and with his face buried in his pillow.

Thankfully, however, Masami seemed to be satisfied with that. In an instant, the refined rage and cutting edge to her demeanor fell away, leaving behind the aloof, dignified prefect Tsuna normally knew. He breathed a silent sigh of relief.

"Perhaps, but the fact remains that I am responsible for the safety of the students here." Masami turned away from Gokudera. "The bell will ring in a minute, and I expect to see the two of you in detention after school for the next three days. Sawada-san, the spar Onii-san requested?"

"I know, I know. Saturday, right?" Tsuna scrambled to his feet and made sure to stand straight, suspecting he would get punished otherwise. Detention was already bad enough, even if he had expected it.

"We'll be waiting." With that sinister prediction, Masami glided from the rooftop, closing the door gently behind her and leaving Tsuna, Reborn, and Gokudera lingering on the rooftop, an almost awkward silence falling between them.

Tsuna wondered what sort of drama show his life was now. It looked like it was leaning a little towards the action side, with a touch of horror.

Gokudera was quiet for another heartbeat, brooding, almost sulking, before growling, "What a stone-cold bitch! Who does she think she is, acting like she's all that!? Don't worry, Juudaime, I'll blow her up next time so she can't bother us—"

"Gokudera-kun." Tsuna snapped himself out of his thoughts with a shake of his head. This was more important. Smiling comfortingly, he knelt beside the bomber. "It's alright. Masami-san's a good friend of mine. She can be scary when she's angry, but she doesn't mean any harm. But you know… maybe she's a little right."

Poor Gokudera looked flabbergasted. "J-Juudaime!?"

"You should have more care for your life," Tsuna scolded, calling on what little assertiveness Masami had managed to beat into him. "She's right. If I was a few seconds too late—" He winced, unable to bear thinking about it. Tsuna rubbed at his bare arms, unreasonably cold despite the wind having let up.

"Nothing bad would have happened," Reborn stated, stepping forward for the first time since shooting Tsuna in the head.

"Eeeh?" Tsuna furrowed his brows in confusion. "What are you talking about, Reborn? Gokudera-kun would have gotten blow up! That's very, _very_ bad!" Though, for some reason, Gokudera was looking rather starry-eyed at the moment.

"Masami was all ready to intercept with that fan of hers before I stopped her," Reborn told them. "Dame-Tsuna, why haven't you persuaded such a useful person to join your famiglia yet?"

"I'm not going to be a mafia boss, Reborn!" Tsuna reiterated, exasperated. "And Masami-san isn't just a 'useful person'! I'm not going to make her join if she doesn't want to!"

Reborn's response was to jump into the air and kick Tsuna in the head.

"Hiieeeek! Reborn, what was that for!?"

"Dunno, I felt like it."

* * *

Masami glided into the Reception Room and took a seat on the sofa. She leaned back and closed her eyes, inhaling and exhaling slowly and deliberately, as her mother had taught her ever so long ago. She wanted to leave, wanted to just forget all of her responsibilities and _run_.

But she couldn't of course, not with the piles of work on her desk, not with the herbivores who stumbled along the school hallways, not with hitmen and mafia haunting the school. It was nearly enough to make her resent the world, just a bit.

Masami ran calculations through her mind, the process starting to become as easy as breathing, though not as easy as dancing, and decided that she had enough time to simply laze around for a while. It was becoming a bit of a commodity.

There was a sigh. "Tetsuya," Kyoya called in-between clean, precise servings of his bento.

The door creaked open, the muted steps of the second-in-command of the prefects on the carpet. Masami felt his concerned gaze on her for a moment, before it turned to Onii-san. "Yes, Kyo-san?"

"Get Masami hot chocolate."

"Hai."

And that, right there, was why she put up with their nonsense. Not that Kyoya would understand why she was so upset even if Masami told him about the whole situation right now. They had such different views on the world.

It was why Masami had bothered with Tsunayoshi while Kyoya would have bitten him to death without remorse.

Kyoya was nearly always firmly in the present. He saw what was and based his actions off of that. Herbivores were herbivores; carnivores were carnivores. He didn't care for things like what ifs. The closest he'd ever come was giving Tsunayoshi time to 'grow his fangs' before going all-out and determining the proper hierarchy of things.

Masami wanted what could be. There were an infinite amount of possibilities inherent in the universe, and she cherished that. It wasn't so much that she wanted to explore it all, only that she enjoyed the knowledge that she _could_ , could roam the globe to her heart's content, could make of herself whatever she wanted.

It was for that reason she hadn't dismissed Sawada Tsunayoshi outright. It was for that reason Masami didn't precisely approve of murder. And it was for that reason she was so very angry with Gokudera Hayato at the moment.

Didn't he know what he had almost thrown away? It was infuriating, especially for someone of his rumored intellect.

"The herbivore?" Kyoya questioned idly, and Masami pressed her lips together.

"Taken care of." If one could take care of suicidal herbivores. Still, better not to tell Kyoya about the dynamite issue. That was just asking for Gokudera Hayato to get sent to the hospital.

"And the omnivore?" His new nickname for Tsunayoshi.

"A guest on Saturday."

He grunted. "Good."

There was a peaceful pause while Kyoya ate and Masami half-heartedly dozed.

Then, "Masa-san, I have your hot chocolate."

She resisted the urge to groan and peeled back her eyelids to sit up. "Thank you, Kusakabe-san." Taking the cup from him, Masami covered a yawn and heard the bell ring. Sighing to herself, she rose to her feet and left for class. Thankfully, she had no afternoon classes with Tsunayoshi and Hayato.

Not so enjoyable was the pile of work waiting for her after school.

"Masami, I'm leaving," Kyoya spared the time to inform her, lingering by her doorway after his patrols.

"All right." She didn't look up from the paper advocating for a field trip for the tree-hugging club. Which was fine, really, if they weren't planning on going to a football arena. "Dance well, Onii-san."

He grunted, and then the silence in the office was official.

Masami tapped her feet on the carpet and rejected the proposition.

* * *

It was a lie. Her peace was a lie.

"Y-You! What are you doing here?!" Two days later, Hayato pointed a belligerent finger at Masami, who was unwrapping her lunch, blissfully unaffected by the aggression spilling off the bomber in waves. "Get away from Juudaime!"

"Gokudera-kun! Please stop!" Tsunayoshi panicked, glancing back and forth between his two friends. "Masami-san normally sits with me during lunch when she isn't busy with the Disciplinary Committee!" Which was becoming less and less often.

Masami broke apart her chopsticks and nodded to a Reborn who had suddenly jumped down from a nearby tree in a well-manufactured leafy costume. "Greetings, Reborn-san. Gokudera-san, must I remind you that smoking is prohibited?"

Hayato's eye twitched even as he scoffed and removed the lit cigarette to stomp it out underneath his shoe. "What the hell is it to you!? Don't think you can come in all cool as ice and shit and tell _me_ what to do! I'll blow you up!"

"Gokudera-kun!" Poor Tsunayoshi, having to leash the bomb-happy Italian. Masami didn't envy him at all. "No, no, don't get out the dynamite! Hieek, Masami-san—!"

Her gunsen left her hand with a neat flick, meeting the target's chest squarely and sending him skidding back with a pained grunt. Hayato was silent for two more seconds, most likely out of shock and the need to regain his breath, before promptly exploding into an incensed rant.

As he didn't have dynamite out this time, she did nothing but gesture for Tsunayoshi to hand her back her fan. Positive and negative reinforcement. She was pretty sure she had seen a lesson on that in one of Onii-san's nature television shows.

Masami happily ignored the fact that those shows were in dealing with unruly pets. Perhaps she would invest some time in researching psychology later. She certainly hadn't forgiven or forgotten what had happened three days ago, and she had honestly had no reason to investigate an unhealthy disregard for life before.

If nothing else, Tsunayoshi didn't have that problem. In fact, he was quite aware of his own mortality, to the point where he ran away from chihuahuas. "Gokudera-san, dynamite is forbidden on school grounds. Sawada-san, stuttering and begging is unbecoming. Please cease and desist."

Off to the side, Reborn drank his coffee and smirked.

* * *

Hayato didn't know what to think of Hibari Masami.

His first impression of her was that she was some ordinary civilian, if with freakishly perceptive eyes and a cool smile, so damn _polite_ that it had annoyed the fuck out of him. Not to mention the completely absurd book of school rules she'd left on his table.

After skimming through it, he had promptly torn it apart and recycled it all, but the reminder had still been irritating.

Who did she think she was, ordering Smokin' Bomb Hayato around!?

(He decided not to consider the fact that she didn't actually know who he _really_ was.)

His second impression of her was that she was most certainly not an ordinary civilian, but was actually _scary as fuck_. The scolding she'd rained down on him had been infinitely worse than any of his father's. With no warning whatsoever, the cool, calm girl had turned into a vengeful witch with a tongue of frost and eyes of diamond.

He was halfway certain that she was a UMA in disguise as a middle school student. Either that or an assassin.

Probably an assassin, now that he thought about it.

(She was the first one to ever become _upset_ because Hayato had endangered his own life. Which. What. Why.)

His third impression of her was that she was seemingly his new, incredible, amazing, wonderful boss' friend, which he really couldn't understand, but tried to anyway. At least, he reasoned to himself, such a frightening person was on the Tenth's side. And wasn't it fantastic that his boss could sway people like _that_!?

Hayato had seriously lucked out, becoming the subordinate of his Juudaime.

And he promised himself he would be the best right-hand possible for the Vongola Decimo, no matter what.

(For the one and only person who had accepted, truly _accepted_ , bastard, worthless Hayato without even blinking.)

But—

"You're going to that witch's house!?" Hayato screeched, going pale. This was dreadful! Who knew what she would do to his precious Juudaime!? Not that he didn't trust the World's Greatest Hitman's judgment, but still!

Masami reminded him too much of a professional hitman for him to trust the safety of his Boss to her.

Juudaime laughed and scratched the back of his head. "Uhh...yeah. I have to go spar with Hibari-san, Masami-san's older brother, or else they'll both get mad and that'd be, err, pretty bad."

Hayato frowned severely, eyes narrowing. It was wrong for his Boss to be frightened of anyone or anything. "What? Are they threatening you, Juudaime!? Do you want me to blow them up for you!?" No one would hurt Juudaime under his watch!

He chose to ignore his previous lack of success in injuring Hibari Masami in any way.

"No, no, no, it's not like that, Gokudera-kun!" Juudaime shook his head, waving his arms in an X shape in front of him. "It's just training; it's good for me. Besides, Masami-san won't let anything too bad happen."

Hayato would never know where Juudaime got that confidence from. In his humble opinion, that witch was nothing but trouble. Although, he admitted grudgingly, she had kept Juudaime safe before Hayato had come along, so maybe she wasn't _that_ bad.

Still pretty damn bad though.

"If you're so concerned, Gokudera, then just come with us," Reborn recommended, having watched the argument go back and forth calmly. He was also abruptly in a kendo uniform, swinging a tiny bokken around. "Like Dame-Tsuna had the sense to say, it'll be good training!"

"Reborn!" Juudaime yelled, going a horrifying shade of white. "That's a terrible idea! Masami-san and Hibari-san will kill him and then they'll kill me!"

"Don't worry, Juudaime! I'll protect you!" Hayato declared, meaning the words with all of his heart.

Strangely enough, Juudaime didn't look very reassured.

"If you don't hurry up, Dame-Tsuna..." Reborn held up an enormous pocket watch to show his student. "...you'll be late."

"Hiiiiiieeeeee!"

...and that was how they all ended up on the doorstep of an archaic Japanese mansion that could easily pass for a Mafia Base. Hayato had his doubts.

Juudaime, fidgeting and uncomfortable, stepped up and knocked lightly on the door. Hayato shifted his weight from his left foot to his right and resisted the urge to light up a cigarette. Going by past experience, that...probably wouldn't turn out well.

And he definitely didn't want to cause any sort of trouble for Juudaime!

The door slid open precisely two and a half seconds later.

And Hayato's jaw dropped.

Okay, he _had_ worked out one Hibari Masami. She was Juudaime's oldest friend. She was the sister of Juudaime's sparring partner. She was a terrifying witch when angry and somehow capable of acting like an angel from above when otherwise. She was a prim and proper prefect.

This...creature in front of him didn't fit into any of those categories.

Masami was clad in an ombre kimono, a mesmerizing purple that gradually faded into brilliant crimson. Pure white kanzashi flowers pinned her dark hair up and hung next to her face, which was currently utterly unreadable as she looked them over.

She looked sophisticated and traditional, cultured and refined. She looked noble and dignified and harmless, a lady of old. She looked far more mature than a fourteen-year-old. She looked like some ancient geisha-in-training. She looked—

Adversely blank for just a moment upon seeing Hayato. It didn't last, but it made him scowl nevertheless, mood instantly souring.

"Greetings, Sawada-san, Reborn-san, Gokudera-san." Masami smiled genially, sweeping a bow that was even more ornate than normal because of her kimono.

"Good afternoon, Masami-san!" Juudaime, ever the nice and cordial boss, smiled warmly and bowed back, eyes darting nervously between Hayato and Masami.

Hayato inwardly seethed as Reborn chirped a "Ciaossu, Masami." There was no reason Juudaime should ever bow to _anyone_ , but days of eating lunch with them both had informed him that this was a common occurrence. At least Masami had the decency to return the gesture.

"Going to let us in, maiko witch?" Hayato barked when those damn dove gray eyes settled on him, demanding despite no words being spoken. "Don't you dare leave Juudaime standing out here in the sun!" He might get sunburned, and that would be an absolute disaster.

At that, he got a raised eyebrow that said quite clearly she found the new nickname questionable and his lack of manners impolite but would indulge him anyway. Turning, Masami began making her way inside. "Welcome. For safety reasons, please refrain from displaying shoes, dynamite, and cigarettes in my home."

It was painfully obvious of whom the last two referred to. And what sort of fucking 'safety reasons' were there in the first place!? If she didn't want him here, then she should just say so outright, not that he would be leaving without his boss, approval or not.

Hayato gritted his teeth but subsided when Juudaime sent him a pleading look. Slipping his shoes off with a bit more force than absolutely necessary, he stomped after her, scowling. "Who's this brother of yours anyways!?"

"You'll see," she replied serenely, gliding through the hallways with ridiculous grace. "I would advise you not to anger him, Gokudera-san."

"Oi, what the hell does that mean!?" All-too-familiar reminders to _'stay out of the way, Hayato'_ and _'just...go to your room'_ drifted through his mind. "You think I can't take him!?" He wasn't weak, damn it! Weak people were useless, and Hayato couldn't— _wouldn't_ be useless.

"No, Gokudera-kun, please don't!" Juudaime cut in, looking disturbingly worried and concerned as he increased the length of his strides to sidle in-between them. "Hibari-san can be really, really scary, so, please don't."

Hayato couldn't decide whether he should be happy Juudaime was obviously perturbed about _him_ or hurt that Juudaime didn't think he could take this 'Hibari-san.' He needed to be the perfect Right-Hand Man, after all, and that meant he needed to be able to take on anyone and everyone. "Juudaime—"

Masami turned around at long last in front of double doors, kanzashi flowers swaying. "You could not defeat Sawada-san," she said flatly, though not unkindly. "Sawada-san can not defeat Onii-san. I'm sure you can determine the results."

Hayato blinked, knocked off-balance for a moment. "Juudaime can't defeat this guy?" Reading the mildly rueful confirmation on Juudaime's face, he tilted his head curiously and thought about this new development.

It only took seconds for things to click, and he slammed his fist into his palm. "Ah! Of course Juudaime is so smart and devoted that he's training with a strong opponent he can't defeat so he'll improve! I should have seen it earlier!"

For some reason, Juudaime looked a little pained. "Errr...Gokudera-kun, that's not it exactly..."

"Onii-san's waiting," Masami said quietly and pushed the doors open.

* * *

Masami was not looking forward to introducing Gokudera Hayato to Hibari Kyoya.

For one, solo was great, double was suspicious, and triple was a crowd.

Actually, in Onii-san's world, two was a crowd, too, but at least they were a mildly carnivorous crowd.

Hayato might be a hitman, might even be dangerous with those dynamite of his, but he was far from Kyoya's level. For that matter, he wasn't even up to Masami's speed of dance. Not yet, at the very least, though, like Tsunayoshi, he did have the potential.

That was a bad line of thought for such a pleasant morning. She pushed it away.

For two, the bomber was hostile and foolish enough to directly challenge Onii-san.

Masami was tolerant, much more so than her brother, and what she put up with in the name of peace, Kyoya would certainly not. Blatant disrespect to Hibari Kyoya would not be tolerated, much less in his own territory. Hayato would be bitten to death without mercy, creating a whole new set of problems.

For three, said boy was Tsunayoshi's "subordinate."

Should it come to a fight, Tsunayoshi would feel obliged to intervene out of his usual idiotic sense of duty and compassion, which would get _him_ hurt. It would turn into a bloodbath into Masami's home, and that was simply unacceptable.

And then there was Reborn, who would most likely just exacerbate the situation.

No, Masami was not at all happy to play the mediator in these circumstances. Not that she let her irritation show, but it coiled deeply in her chest nevertheless, buried beneath a layer of ice but just waiting to lash out.

"Masami." Dressed in a black kinagashi, Onii-san was frowning, eyes set on Hayato, who was already bristling. "What is the meaning of this?"

Sighing inwardly, Masami leaned against the wall and spread open her fan, shielding her face. "Onii-san, this is Gokudera Hayato, Sawada-san's subordinate. Gokudera-san, this is Hibari Kyoya, the Leader of the Disciplinary Committee."

The two sized each other up for a heartbeat before Kyoya scoffed and turned away. "Why is he here?" he demanded blandly, evidently unimpressed by the other boy.

"I believe it was to guard Sawada-san," Masami answered as Hayato's eyebrow twitched in vexation.

_From you, from us_ went unsaid.

"Herbivores are not welcome in my home," Kyoya said emphatically, tonfa appearing in hand. "Get lost."

Hayato gritted his teeth, dynamite sticks also showing up out of nowhere. "What was that, you bastard!?"

"You heard me. Leave or I'll bite you to death." Kyoya grinned toothily, a bloodthirsty glint in his eyes.

"Hiieeee!" Tsunayoshi's eyes were as wide as saucer plates. "Gokudera-kun and Hibari-san are going to fight?!"

"If you don't want them to, then stop them, Dame-Tsuna," Reborn said, completely unruffled.

"What are you talking about, Reborn!? I can't do that!"

For her part, Masami was clinging onto her patience as her brother and her classmate prepared to dance. She rather liked her home, thank you very much, and wasn't at all interested in watching it get destroyed. Ryohei's constant visits were bad enough.

But she had a hold on her emotions. Okaa-san would have been disappointed otherwise.

Until Hayato, a flush high on his cheeks and eyes flashing, whipped out a cigarette and lit it. Predictably, Kyoya's reaction was to narrow his eyes and ready his pair of tonfa for a biting.

There was going to be dynamite blowing up in her home, a lingering scent of smoke that would take weeks to air out, and her student was regressing into herbivorousness, if that was a word.

And even worse, a certain Italian was being reckless _again_. You would have thought he would learn from his mistakes, but no, apparently not.

Masami smiled coolly and glided forward, holding onto her self-composure in a bloodless grip. Tsunayoshi scrambled out of her way with a squeak while Reborn simply stepped to the left and watched her curiously.

She ignored them both.

Instead, Masami stopped right in front of the two to-be-fighters and tapped her foot on the ground semi-patiently. Alerted by the icy murderous intent in which she had clothed herself, Kyoya and Hayato turned to eye her cautiously, still in combat positions.

"Masami—" Kyoya chided just as Hayato snarled, "Witch—"

She snapped her fan closed with a sharp snap and directed it at the two. " _Not in the house..._ please," Masami warned, poised smile never faltering.

Both of them clearly wanted to argue.

Both of them sensibly did not.

Masami's smile widened a fraction, deceptively angelic and innocent. "Thank you. Now, Sawada-san, please enjoy your dance with Onii-san, while I serve Gokudera-san and Reborn-san tea and coffee."

No one tried to protest.

Two hours later, she watched a limping Tsunayoshi walk home with Reborn scolding him for being so pathetic and Hayato fussing like a mother-hen. Kyoya was off napping in the garden again, and the house was still standing, which was naturally the most important part.

All things considered, Masami mused with a satisfied smile, the visit hadn't honestly gone as bad she'd thought it would. She had spent the majority of the two hours arguing physics with Hayato, with Reborn occasionally chiming in with the mathematical aspect of things.

Which had clued her in on how intelligent the Sun Arcobaleno was. And also—again—how stupid the Smokin' Bomb was, because he was just as smart as she had suspected and knowing that he had been going to kill himself through a case of butterfingers was...frustrating. To say the least.

He could be a revolutionary scientist. He could be a spectacular engineer. He could be so much and _yet_.

Masami took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

As Hana would say, _such a monke_ —

* * *

"All right. What have the monkeys been doing now?" Hana asked, arching an eyebrow. Her arms were crossed over her chest, sharp eyes scanning Masami closely as they wandered down the road to the new shopping center Kyoko had insisted they look at.

Masami blinked, perplexed. "Nothing, Kurokawa-san. As far as I am aware."

Hana snorted, tossing back her long dark hair. "Don't give me that. You look exhausted."

Masami examined her reflection discreetly in a nearby window. There didn't seem to be anything too amiss, although she supposed she should redo her hair when they arrived at their destination since her kanzashi was crooked and several dark strands hung loose.

And maybe her uniform was slightly rumpled from dealing with more of Hayato's shenanigans a few hours ago—at least he'd keep it to an open, abandoned area this time—but it wasn't anything for Hana to openly comment on. "How so?"

"Well," Hana revised, "you look more exhausted than _I've_ ever seen you."

"You do look a little tired, Masa-chan," Kyoko piped up, peering at the other girl with wide, concerned eyes. "You have dark circles under your eyes. Are you okay?"

Dark circles? She had been a bit caught up recently with all of her classwork, homework, paperwork, and sorting out the pandemonium exploding over town, but she hadn't been aware her sleep patterns had suffered so badly. If it was visible however...

"I'm fine," Masami assured. "I've simply been preoccupied with completing Gokudera-san's transfer papers. I'll be done this weekend."

Kyoko smiled, bright as the sun. "That's good! Hey, after we look at the clothing section, do you guys want to check out the makeup aisle? I hear they have a really good selection."

Masami watched Hana press her lips together and spoke up before her classmate could shoot the idea down, "I wouldn't mind."

Kyoko beamed and Hana sighed, and if in the end, Masami bought concealer and foundation for a darker reason than cute boys, then they never needed to know.

* * *

Hayato was proficient in Italian, Japanese, English, and French, in that order. Hence, after he had scoped out Juudaime's home, the area around Juudaime's home, the nearby yakuza gangs—they were all pretty small and weak—and the filthier spots in town, he headed straight for the library.

There was no such thing as a language barrier in the pursuit of knowledge!

Of course, Hayato made sure to wait until Juudaime was safely at home and Reborn was there watching over his Boss. There was absolutely no way he would have left his Boss in danger of any kind. That wasn't Right-Hand Man material.

For such a small town, Namimori's Public Library wasn't half-bad. Sure, their Italian books were kept solely to the children's section, and they had a truly deplorable science fiction collection, but their nonfiction area was great. Hayato browsed the shelves for hours, ignoring the startled glances he got from other patrons.

It was like belts and necklaces were illegal in a library or something. Whatever. He was used to being judged.

Carefully balancing a stack of perilously stacked together books, Hayato glared at a guy until he went away and stole his chair and table. He ignored the crash that resulted when he slammed his books down and the stack finally toppled, and the glances that prompted.

Dropping into the chair with a sigh, Hayato ran his hands through his hair and tied it up into a ponytail. Slipping on his glasses, he grabbed the first book and cracked it open.

Then, he read. And read and read while the sunshine steadily lessened, only to be replaced by artificial light, and the dull murmur of voices around him quieted. It was easy to become absorbed in information, in the theories and concepts that he understood so easily.

Hayato wasn't sure what tipped him off at first.

There wasn't much noise at all, so maybe it was the rustle of a skirt or the soft, too-close sounds of breathing. It could have been just his instincts or a glimmer of sable in the corner of his eye.

He didn't know, but he did jolt from his trance long enough to look up after an indeterminable amount of time had passed. It didn't feel like a threat, but you never knew until you were dead.

Hibari Masami lounged casually in the chair on the other side of the table, cheek braced against her knuckles. An open book rested on the table in front of her, and, to his annoyance, the deep purple glasses she wore only accentuated her gray eyes.

They also made her look slightly more harmless than normal, but he ignored that for the sake of his sanity.

Hayato choked on his own spit when the situation finally registered in his befuddled mind. He pushed off frantically from the table and ended up sliding his chair three feet away with a shrill sound like nails on chalkboard. Then, he overbalanced and fell back, landing on the thankfully carpeted floor in a frankly uncomfortable position.

There was a beat of very awkward silence.

"...greetings to you, too, Gokudera-san," Masami said mildly. She probably nodded politely as well, or some other shit like that, but he couldn't exactly see her from this angle.

He groaned. "What the hell are you doing here, maiko witch?"

"This is a public library," she reminded him.

Hayato sneered as he got to his feet but didn't yell. He respected library etiquette, even though the witch really did deserve getting yelled at. "Couldn't you have found a different table?" he grumbled. "I'm busy!"

"Busy reading," she commented. "As was I."

_Before you decided to freak out_.

He scowled, rearranging himself back into his previous position, albeit with a good two centimeters more between him and his apparent deskmate. "Just shut up. I can't concentrate with—what the _fuck_ are you reading?"

Masami glanced down "Well," she drawled, "it appears to be a book on anger management, but I could be mistaken."

Hayato stared blankly at her. "Why the hell do _you_ need a book on anger management?" he demanded. Even when she had been pissed at him, she had been totally in control of herself and her actions. And, well, Juudaime and Reborn really didn't need this either.

She only raised an eyebrow at him.

He was a certified genius. It only took Hayato a few more seconds to get it. "Oh, right, you have to deal with that homicidal brother of yours." The one who had hurt his Juudaime and the one who Hayato definitely hadn't forgiven. That one.

At that, Masami smiled delicately. "Something like that."

* * *

"MAAASSSAAMMIII-SAAAAANNN!"

"I'm sorry for disturbing you, but I think someone's calling for you, Masa-san." Tetsuya said to the dancer in question.

Masami sighed and rubbed at her temples. "I would never have heard," she replied, somewhat dryly. With the addition of Reborn in Tsunayoshi's life, he only seemed to be landing in more predicaments than usual. Cleaning up their messes was becoming more work than it was worth.

Rising from the sofa—where she _had_ been in the process of taking a long overdue nap—she walked to the door and opened it just in time for Tsunayoshi to fall through and sprawl on the carpet. "Greetings, Sawada-san," she said, smiling blandly. "What brings you here? Lunch began ten minutes ago."

Tetsuya very kindly closed the door behind him as he left.

"Masami-san!" Tsunayoshi gasped, scrambling to his feet. His eyes were wide and panicked, and his hands were tugging at his hair. This was clearly off to a wonderful start. "I'm going to get _expelled_!"

She blinked. "Expelled." That was new.

"Yes, Nezu-sensei said we're going to get expelled if we don't dig up the time capsule in the playground, but there's no way we can do that, and oh, God, I'm never going to see Kyoko-chan again, what am I going to do—"

_Whack!_

"Hieeee!" Tsunayoshi hit the ground head-first and laid there for a second, hands covering the lump developing on his head. "Masami-san...! What was that for!?"

"You were rambling," she said, taking a seat on the sofa once more. "I didn't understand a word that came out of your mouth."

He grimaced but pulled himself up again and took a deep breath, visibly trying to settle himself. "Okay." Another slow inhale and exhale. "Okay."

Masami waited patiently, and eventually, Tsunayoshi pulled himself together enough to explain, painstakingly, just what had happened. She listened without a word, and when he was done, kept quiet for another minute, thinking.

She had been in Nezu-sensei's class before, she recalled. Technically, she still was, but this was one of the few occasions in which she had taken advantage of her new status as a prefect. The Principal just wasn't courageous enough to demand anything from Kyoya's people.

Simply put, during that first week of school, Dohachiro Nezu had left a rather unattractive impression on Masami with his constant insults and boasting, and she'd never felt the need to return to that science class for anything other than important tests and projects, preferring to study from her textbook instead.

Considering she had received a full grade on her last exam, it seemed to be working just fine.

"You said the time capsule was in the playground?" Masami said at last, tapping her fan against her thigh absently.

"Y-Yeah." Tsunayoshi groaned, rubbing at his eyes.

"And am I right in assuming you would rather not be expelled?"

"Of course!" He was starting to look uneasy now, eyes darting towards the door. Smart boy, but not smart enough.

Masami smiled and glided to the door. She opened it and watched neutrally as Hayato fell through the doorway and sprawled on the carpet with a startled yelp. Halfway through the downward motion, Reborn jumped off of the bomber's head and landed seamlessly on Masami's shoulder.

"Greetings, Gokudera-san, Reborn-san," she said while Tsunayoshi stuttered incoherently.

"Ciaossu, Masami," Reborn chirped. There was an abrupt thunking sound, and they both turned to see Hayato prostate himself in front of Tsunayoshi, forehead pressed against the floor with absurd force.

"I'm very sorry, Juudaime!" he shouted, apology in every line of his body. "Things turned out like this without me even knowing you didn't want to be expelled that badly!"

Masami wondered who exactly _wanted_ to be expelled.

"Since things are like this, let's dig up the time capsule together, at any cost! I have a good idea in mind, just leave it to me! We don't need _her_ help!" Hayato went on, shooting a nasty glare at Masami, who was entirely unconcerned. "Come on, let's go!"

"Please wait a moment," Masami requested, because there were only so many ways you could recover a time capsule buried underneath a playground. "Precisely how are you planning to accomplish your goal?"

Hayato leaped to his feet, scowling for all he was worth. "That's none of your business, maiko witch! Just stay out of this!"

"G-Gokudera-kun!" Tsunayoshi protested, and Hayato's shoulders fell. Masami couldn't help but sigh when the bomber produced a handful of dynamite sticks.

"No."

"But—"

"Absolutely not." Masami glanced at the clock. "Onii-san will be back in ten minutes. Would you really like to explain to him why you wrecked the playground?"

Tsunayoshi's face acquired a tinge of green.

"I thought so. Would anyone like some tea?"

* * *

Kyoya strolled into his sister's office without knocking and twitched.

As expected, Masami was drinking tea, although, unlike usual, she wasn't working on paperwork.

As was completely unexpected and very irritating, she wasn't alone, and it wasn't even prefects surrounding her.

The baby—unnatural, predator, _carnivore_ —sat on a small cushion beside Masami in a full-on tea serving outfit, tiny hands cupped around the steaming cup. Next to him was the bomb herbivore, his sister's newest project apparently, and completing the circle was the omnivore.

A small part of his mind appreciated the unprecedented variety in the room: two carnivores, one omnivore, and one herbivore. The rest of his mind disdained the crowding taking place in his territory.

Kyoya had opened the door into abject silence, so it didn't take long for every eye to turn to him, some more frightened than others. "Masami," he started because this was definitely her fault, "explain."

Masami only smiled, innocent as could be. He had learned to be wary of that look before she was five. "Sawada-san and Gokudera-san would like to report a breach of the school rules."

The omnivore's responding squeak was somewhat mouse-like in nature. The herbivore glowered pathetically.

Kyoya crossed his arms and leaned against the doorway. "What is it?"

"A teacher," she murmured, eyes heavy-lidded, "appears to be abusing his authority. Dohachiro Nezu plans to expel Sawada-san and Gokudera-san for misconduct of the violent kind."

He snorted. "And what do you want me to do about it?" While Kyoya might appreciate his spars with the omnivore on occasion, those two were her projects, not his.

The herbivore bristled, but the omnivore reined him in easily with a quiet, panicked word. Hmph. Sheep, the both of them.

Masami fanned herself with the weapon he had gotten her for her birthday and smiled demurely. "Excuse us from school for today, please. We're going to go on a tour."

"To where?"

"Nezu-sensei's residence, of course."

The omnivore spit out his tea.

"You're cleaning that up," Kyoya said.

* * *

"Masami-san!" Tsuna hissed, fighting the urge to cry as he jogged alongside his insane classmate(s). "Breaking and entering is against the school rules! Breaking and entering is against the _law_!"

"We have Onii-san's permission," Masami pointed out reasonably.

Or not so reasonably. "That doesn't change a thing! It's still illegal!"

"Don't worry about it, Juudaime!" Gokudera beamed at him and then abruptly whirled on Masami with a scowl. "Oi, maiko witch, don't you dare mess this up for Juudaime! I won't let you get us expelled or whatever you're thinking!"

"I assure you, Gokudera-san, if I wanted to get you expelled, you would be expelled," Masami retorted blandly and turned left, bringing them before a dingy condo. "This is where Nezu-sensei lives."

"We don't have a key, so we aren't going to be able to get in. We should just go back to school and talk to the Principal," Tsuna said, inwardly breathing a sigh of relief.

Which rapidly turned into a high-pitched whine of despair when Masami and Gokudera exchanged a look, and Gokudera silently, sheepishly retrieved a key from his pocket.

" _Where did you get that_!?" Tsuna shrieked.

"It was on his desk when we visited his classroom," Masami said.

Tsuna whimpered. " _That's_ why we went back?" But then— "Why did we have to go to the convenience store then? And buy all of this—this stuff?" He peered dubiously inside the plastic bag he had been forced to carry.

Gloves, baby wipes, hair nets, odorless odor eliminator!? None of it made sense! And Masami had had to remind Gokudera to buy a trash bag for some reason, too.

"He's never going to catch us, Juudaime! I took classes on this." Hayato grinned, inserting the key and twisting. There was a _click_ that froze Tsuna's next wail of pain, and Masami smiled.

"Here we are." A push and the door opened.

Tsuna stared. "Masami-san?"

"Yes?"

"Have you done this before?" He was feeling a little faint.

Masami's smile wasn't at all reassuring. "Why ever would you think that, Sawada-san?" She reached down and began to remove her boots.

Tsuna's jaw dropped to the floor. "E-Eeeehh?"

Masami didn't seem to hear him. Gokudera turned to Tsuna with a serious look on his face. "Juudaime," he started, and oh no, he _knew_ this wasn't going to end well, "I know I'm not worthy of such an honor, but would you please hand me the trash bag?"

...wait, what? Tsuna shook his head and mustered up, "What?" It wasn't any more coherent than what he'd had in his head.

Masami sighed. "Please give him the trash bag, Sawada-san." Her tone was mellow, but Tsuna still jumped a little and fumbled around until he retrieved the black plastic bag and pressed it into Gokudera's hand.

Said bomber was glaring death daggers at the prefect even as he moved to shake the bag out and take off his own shoes. "Oi, don't fucking threaten Juudaime, damn it!"

"Not now, please, Gokudera-san," Masami said, idly overlooking the bomber ready to whip out his dynamite. "Sawada-san, shoes off, if you would."

"Uhh...ermm...why?" Tsuna asked, hopping on one foot to try and obey. Gokudera helpfully threw his shoes into the trash bag—what? why?—and moved closer so Tsuna could use him as a brace.

Masami blinked at him. "Footprints."

Tsuna was really, really tempted to walk over and bang his head against the wall. Maybe if he was lucky, he would knock himself out.

"Don't even think about it, Dame-Tsuna," Reborn warned, leaping off the roof and engaging in a flashy sequence of acrobatics before touching down on the ground in a perfect three-point landing. He was wearing a black ninja suit, complete with Leon-colored headgear.

The evil tutor looked up with a smile. "A mafia boss always supports his subordinates in whatever they do. Even if it's illegal. _Especially_ if it's illegal."

While Tsuna was preoccupied with bemoaning his life, Masami plucked his shoes out of his hands and threw them into the trash bag. Gokudera tied up the bag with quick, deft movements, and hurled it through the air so it ended up plopped down in front of the driveway.

"Here, Juudaime!" Gokudera handed a speechless Tsuna gloves and launched another pair at Masami with unnecessary force. She caught it with ease, and they both tugged their gloves on before turning to stare expectantly at Tsuna.

"Stop being such a space cadet," Reborn scolded, kicking Tsuna in the stomach. "You're holding everyone up."

"Ooph! Alright, alright!" Gasping, Tsuna bent over and hurriedly put on the gloves. They were surprisingly comfortable. Gokudera hovered over him, hands held out like he wanted to help, but didn't know how.

"The wipes, please?"

"I—I, why—" Despite his protests, Tsuna groped around inside the paper bag until he found the baby wipes and gave the container to Masami.

"Fingerprints." She pulled out a sheet and proceeded to clean the 'contaminated' doorknob.

"Don't forget the key," Gokudera grunted.

"Hai. Sawada-san, hairnets."

Tsuna mutely handed them over. Masami seemed to anticipate his question anyway. "Hair has DNA, you know."

Tsuna slid down to his knees, gripped at his hairnet, and tried not to hyperventilate. Reborn gave him three minutes to wallow in misery before he barked, "Dame-Tsuna, _get yourself together_."

Tsuna stood up. And got himself together. Glancing around, he was startled to find that his friends had already gone in before him. It took Tsuna fifteen seconds to realize how suspicious he must look to the neighbors and rush inside, leaving Reborn to shut the door.

Masami and Gokudera hadn't gone far. They were standing in the hallway, already talking—arguing—strategy.

"The bastard probably has the files on his computer!" Gokudera argued, spraying around odor eliminator like it was going out of style. "We should check his office!"

"If he does have any ambiguous papers," Masami said, "then he would hide them somewhere close. In his bedroom, for example."

Tsuna's eyes were stinging. "We're going into Nezu-sensei's _bedroom_!?"

"See!? Juudaime agrees with me! We should go through his office!" Gokudera said triumphantly, sending Tsuna an adoring look.

Tsuna fought down a sob. "We're going through Nezu-sensei's _office_!?"

"Why don't you just do both?" Reborn suggested. "Gokudera can investigate his office, and Masami can investigate his bedroom. Tsuna will overlook the entire inspection.

Tsuna swayed from side to side dangerously. "Why is this my life?" he moaned.

* * *

As it turned out, they were both right. Hayato easily hacked into Nezu's computer and found both real and forged school transcripts. Meanwhile, Masami discovered copies of the actual papers in a box under his bed, along with several books and photo albums of highly questionable material.

Really, the former was condemning enough. The latter was too much. She had only been trying to avoid the paperwork when she'd suggested this errant tour. Even Masami hadn't expected _this_.

"Oh my God," Tsunayoshi said when he saw the papers. Then, he saw the books and photo albums. " _Oh my God_."

Hayato took one look at the contents of the box Masami held and erupted in a long stream of strange words that made no sense to either of them. She had the sneaky feeling he was cursing Nezu-sensei out in Italian.

Masami tilted her head and listened, imprinting into memory several of the phrases he was spitting out. With the way her life was veering, it sounded like a good precaution, even though she rarely cursed in Japanese, much less in Italian.

Now that she thought about it...perhaps she should start learning Italian? It seemed likely that she would be traveling to Italy sometime soon. That shouldn't make her happy. It did. She chose not to think about the reason.

"M-Masami-san?" Tsunayoshi stared, wide-eyed, at her. "Are you alright?"

She wasn't even in the mood to reprimand his slight lapse in speech. That should say something about her current mental state. Instead, Masami smiled, sweet and nice, just like Okaa-san had taught her. "I'm fine, Sawada-san. Please don't worry."

Amusingly enough, Tsunayoshi very blatantly plastered a disbelieving look on his face.

But it was the truth. This wasn't the all-consuming, arctic rage that had taken her over during that incident with the yakuza. This wasn't even the cutting, acidly indignant fury that had colored her words back with the dynamite.

This was quieter. Purring, venomous, smug satisfaction. She was going to destroy that man, tear apart his reputation and ruin the rest of his life for good, and God, either she was picking up more of Okaa-san's tendencies than expected or there was something very wrong with her equilibrium.

Masami knew which she was betting on.

"You have what you wanted," Reborn commented, staring up at her with incisive, knowing eyes. "What will you do now?"

"What do you mean, Reborn-san?" Tsunayoshi's brow furrowed, his innocence yet untainted. "We're going to give this to the Principal...right?"

Masami traded a look with Hayato, for once the two of them on the exact same wavelength. "No," she said. "No, we're not."

* * *

The crash of the cardboard box on Kyoya's desk was loud, shattering the silence. Not even flinching, Kyoya looked up and narrowed his eyes dangerously. Who dared to interrupt his peace?

"Greetings, Onii-san," Masami said, sweeping an elaborate bow. The herbivore and omnivore stood behind her, lingering in the doorway nervously. "We've brought you some gifts."

Kyoya frowned. He knew his sister tended to hide behind the intricate manners and exquisite decorum their mother had trained into her when she was upset. Rather than peer inside the box, he leaned back and looked at the dancer.

It was subtle.

Most people would never notice, not with that pure smile and ladylike posture. But Kyoya was Masami's brother, knew her better than any other living creature in this world, and he saw the deadly edge of anger in her eyes.

Worse than he had thought then. It was beyond rare for Masami to lose her temper, even with the added stress of the baby's recent antics.

Kyoya straightened up and considered the box.

* * *

The next day, Dohachiro Nezu woke up groaning in a hospital bed. Beside him were the papers that spelled his formal dismissal from Namimori Middle. There was also a notice that there would be a note put on his police record.

And, naturally, two days after that, Yamamoto Takeshi stood at the edge of the rooftop with his arm in a sling and the wind tugging at his hair, the ground oh so very far away.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OpalescentGold: So Hayato and Masami meet and fight, Tsuna bemoans his existence as usual, and Kyoya is sick of all these herbivores and their nonsense. Also, that last breaking-and-entering scene was inspired by the minific, [rulebreaker au by exocarapace](https://opalescentgold.tumblr.com/post/139365708072/rulebreaker-au), and you all should check them out, because they're awesome.
> 
> Also, a great big shout-out to my beta. Lovely work, as usual.
> 
> Well, what did you think of Hayato and Masami? Hmm, oh, I'm on [tumblr](https://opalescentgold.tumblr.com/), too! So feel free to find me there. Comments make my day. ^_^
> 
> Chabudai: tables with short legs, used in conjunction with zabuton when eating as a family.
> 
> Fusuma: sliding panels that act as doors and walls.
> 
> Futon: thin bedding meant for sleeping
> 
> Geisha: a type of Japanese entertainer; culturally elite group who are focused on beauty and aesthetics
> 
> Genkan: main entrance to a house.
> 
> Ikebana: the art of flower arrangement.
> 
> Maiko: trainee Geisha who typically undergo training from their mid teens to early twenties
> 
> Ranma: panels found above shoji or fusuma that are designed to let light into the room.
> 
> Seiza: formal way of sitting, kneeling with legs folded underneath.
> 
> Shamisen: three-stringed musical instrument.
> 
> Shodo: the art of calligraphy.
> 
> Tatami: mat floors traditionally made of rice straw.
> 
> Tessenjutsu: martial art of the war fan.
> 
> Uchiwa: flat-faced fans.
> 
> Zabuton: thin pillows used as cushions to sit on.
> 
> Zhuazhou: Chinese tradition on a child's first birthday; the parents place an assortment of items in front of their child and what the child chooses is said to determine their future inclinations and capabilities.


	5. Kenshibu

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OpalescentGold: I do not own Katekyo Hitman Reborn.

Masami was convinced that Tsunayoshi was a magnet attracting all of the suicidal herbivores to him as she snapped orders into her phone while keeping an eye on Yamamoto Takeshi, the idiot playing with death on the school rooftop.

Although she had shared at least one class with the baseball star for the past four or so years, Masami wasn't well acquainted with Takeshi. Granted, she was aware that he was popular, friendly, talented, and the male equivalent of Kyoko's social status in the school, but other than that, she'd paid little attention to him.

There was no reason to, not until he'd apparently decided that breaking an arm and losing his valued sport for less than three months was a valid cause for suicide.

She should have, she thought. She should have noticed his smiles growing duller, his eyes sharpening ever more, his mask slipping away. Because, now with Tsunayoshi attempting to pull Takeshi away from the edge, Masami could look back and see the signs staring her in the face, but it was much too late.

Honestly, of all the days for Hayato to be off restocking his bombs. Why, oh why, did her classmates insist on throwing their lives away? It boggled the mind. It was _irritating._

(Past the aggravation and concern, a part of Masami could, perhaps, sympathize just a bit. For Takeshi, being deprived of baseball was akin to Masami being trapped in a cage or Kyoya laying his weapons to rest for good. Unspeakable, unbearable, unendurable. But suicide still wasn't something she could approve of.)

"The preparations are completed, correct?" A death in Namimori Middle was repugnant.

Thankfully, her brother agreed, if disdainfully. "Correct. The herbivore isn't retreating?"

"Sawada-san's working on it." If nothing else, Tsunayoshi could be incredibly charismatic when the situation called for it and was well able to talk fools from falling over that final edge.

An amused snort. "The omnivore has become a herbivore therapist?"

She smiled vaguely, eyes still glued to the spectacle of Takeshi and Tsunayoshi shouting at each other. "Something like that."

And then the fence broke.

Masami almost crushed her phone by accident, even though she knew full well no one was going to die today.

* * *

Takeshi hadn't meant to. Sure, he had been all ready to die for the sake of baseball, for losing the core of who he was, for failing at the one thing he was meant to succeed at, but _he hadn't meant for things to end up like this._

Because, Tsuna, _Dame-Tsuna_ , had come around and thrown all of that out the window, and Takeshi had no idea how that had happened. He had never paid much attention to Sawada before, at first because he was just that no-good boy hiding in the corner, no different from anyone else, and then suddenly he was off-limits because _Hibari Masami_.

Yeah, that was interesting on some level, because while Takeshi was one of the few people in the entire school to have the privilege of saying that he had little to no experiences with the Hibari siblings, anyone with eyes, ears, and half a brain in their skull knew of The Hibari Kyoya's younger sister, the so-called angelic Masami.

Personally, he'd always had his doubts about whether anyone could be such a messiah of grace and purity but had let it go because it wasn't any of his business. He just kept to his baseball, after all, and it wasn't like she was insanely infamous like her older brother.

Just...lots of rumors and conjectures. Which was fine, but after Hibari and Tsuna had become friends, the other boy had turned into even more of a recluse. Before, there had been bullying and teasing, but later, there had just been a sort of determination to pretend he didn't exist, and then Takeshi had been distracted by baseball.

He had always been distracted by baseball, up until recently, when he couldn't be anymore.

Tsuna had been becoming fascinating these past few weeks, though. First, there was that cool fight with Mochida, and then there was that thing at the Volleyball Tournament, and more recently, there was that odd, sort of idol-like friendship between Tsuna and Gokudera.

Sadly, he was still somewhat bad at sports, so Takeshi hadn't hesitated to invite Tsuna over to his team when everyone else dithered. Apparently, Hibari had been accepted into the Disciplinary Committee and was even more terrifying than before because now she could tattle directly to her brother.

After that, asking Tsuna for advice had come easily. The shorter boy had blinked up at him with those wide, brown eyes, and said, clearly hesitant, "Well, err, I normally just do my best and hope things will work out, you know? Plus, Masami-san, and, umm, Gokudera-kun, are always around when I need help, so..."

Takeshi had nodded and smiled—just like always, just like normal—and then he had gone and broken his arm.

Standing at the edge of the rooftop hadn't been so hard, not nearly as terrible as the abandonment of everything he'd been since his mom's death. The guys who had come to watch (like he was an animal at the zoo, like this was only another game, and maybe it was) had been white noise, all until Tsuna had burst in again, bright and warm like flame.

And he had been so obviously petrified, but Tsuna had reached out and tried, _tried_ to help, saying things like he had always respected Takeshi, and his life wasn't worth this, and please, _please_ don't jump because Takeshi was Takeshi, and no one could replace him—

Takeshi had been reaching back, because even he couldn't deny the sincerity in Tsuna's voice, and his hand had latched onto Tsuna's, and the fence had broken.

All of this swept through Takeshi's mind in a split second as gravity took hold, and he tipped off of the rooftop, unwittingly dragging Tsuna along with him. He was falling, _they_ were falling, and Takeshi hadn't meant to do this at all. He didn't want to die now, and even if he'd had before, he'd never wanted to take Tsuna with him.

"I'm so sor—" he tried to say, meeting his savior and his victim's terrified gaze with his own, as heartfelt and as steady as he could make it, but then there was a sudden _snap_ and something soft and unyielding caught him along the back.

They bounced once, twice, and abruptly, they weren't falling anymore.

Takeshi furrowed his brow, confused and disorientated and somewhat in pain, but Tsuna was already gasping and rolling away, staring wide-eyed at the...mesh beneath his hands? Takeshi wasn't an expert or anything, but he was pretty sure Namimori Middle hadn't invested in a volleyball net this big before.

A glance up above showed that the roof, while distant, wasn't as far away as it should be, and a glance below showed that the ground was still quite a ways below them.

They were dangling in midair, held up solely by a lattice set up on the third floor of the school building.

"Sawada!"

"Hiee? Kusakabe-san!?" Tsuna called out, head snapping left, where the prefect stood by the window, holding onto one of the ropes to the net. The ropes to the right were tied to nearby trees, while the remaining ropes had been distributed to other prefects along the third floor classrooms with the correctly positioned windows.

"You're uninjured?" Kusakabe asked.

"Ah...y-yeah." Tsuna cast a quick, searching look at Takeshi. "Yamamoto's okay, too."

Takeshi watched their classmates on the roof peer down at them carefully. He considered things from their point of view, realized that everything probably looked like a giant spider web from above, and found himself laughing. "Whew! That was a close one!" he said, smiling because this was something he knew how to do.

"Yes, it was," a new, feminine voice agreed while Tsuna was busy looking flabbergasted. "Which is why I'd very much appreciate it if you and Sawada-san would relocate to a more...stable position."

"Masami-san!" Tsuna cried, but Takeshi didn't need the identification. The elegantly dressed girl leaning out of the window beside Kusakabe with burning gray eyes and a serenely lethal smile could honestly be no one else.

Distantly, he thought that, okay, maybe there was some truth to those rumors after all.

A good amount of slowly inching along the net to an open window later, Takeshi was seated on a comfortable black sofa with a steaming cup of tea in his hands. Tsuna was sitting next to him, an apologetic smile on his lips, but a relaxed line to his shoulders that said he was comfortable here, which was good enough for Takeshi.

"So, what is this place?" Takeshi asked, looking around curiously. It was pretty nice, actually, for a random room that Hibari had led them to, her mere presence dissuading any questions or protests in the hallways. There were even fresh flowers on the tables and everything.

Pretty expensive, if anyone asked him.

"This is the Reception Room," Hibari said evenly, moving to sit on the swivel chair behind the heavy oak desk with truly incredible amounts of paperwork. She took a moment to straighten up the desk before crossing her legs and pinning a calm gaze on them both.

To Takeshi's right, Tsuna went a bit pale. Takeshi couldn't exactly blame him, not that he would in the first place, seeing as those eyes were _scary._

"I," she started, clasping her hands in front of her, "would appreciate an explanation."

"I'll do it," Takeshi cut in before Tsuna could say anything because this mess should be laid solely at his feet. Tsuna frowned but didn't interrupt as Takeshi recounted the whole thing, skipping all the personal parts but still giving Hibari the gist of what had happened.

When Takeshi was done, he paused and added, "Like I said, it's all my fault. I was really stupid. If Tsuna wasn't there, I would be dead. Sorry for all of the trouble I caused!" He bowed, careful to keep the tea in the cup. It wouldn't do for the hot liquid to spray over Tsuna.

When Takeshi was looking back at Hibari again, there was a thoughtful element to her frown, but he got the feeling that she wasn't very happy nonetheless. "There will be consequences," she said at last, "for disrupting the peace. As there should be."

That...didn't sound very good, but hey, at least she wasn't angry! Strangely enough, he was pretty sure that he wouldn't want to play with her when she was angry.

Tsuna gulped audibly. "W-What is it?"

Hibari just _looked_ at him for a beat.

Tsuna cringed back. "Sorry, Masami-san."

Takeshi was lost. What had Tsuna done?

"I disapprove of uncertainty, Yamamoto-san," she explained, catching his confusion easily. "And as for the punishment..."

They both leaned forward in dreaded anticipation, the tension in the room rising swiftly.

"First, I expect Yamamoto Tsuyoshi to be informed of this incident within the day," Hibari said, ignoring how Takeshi frowned despite himself. "Yamamoto-san will also be suspended from playing baseball for eight weeks."

 _What_!? Takeshi clenched his jaw so hard it hurt, the first instinctive denial blanking out everything else for a moment. His hands flexed, but— _oh._ His broken arm would take at least six or seven weeks to heal, so that was really just...

Takeshi grinned. "Thanks a lot, Hibari." For the stupid stunt he had pulled, she had let him off really easy. Pretty nice, in his opinion, considering her reputation. "I'll tell my dad myself, I promise."

Hibari inclined her head in majestic acknowledgment. "Please, call me Masami."

Takeshi laughed. "Sure thing, Masami!" In the corner of his eye, he saw Tsuna smile brightly, brown eyes warm and happy, and it made Takeshi smile in return. Things had really turned out well this time around, huh?

"As for the second part of the punishment..." Without missing a beat, Masami smiled innocently and gestured to the piles of papers littering the desk. "I'm sure it won't take long for this paperwork to be completed."

"Hieeeee!?"

* * *

Somehow, Masami was back in that annoying part of town again, knocking on Hayato's door. She sighed inwardly and wasn't at all surprised when the door was slammed open to reveal a dark scowl.

Truly, did this boy have _no_ manners at all?

"What the hell are you doing here, maiko witch!?" Hayato snapped, emerald eyes brimming with mistrust and hostility. He glared at her, the rudeness almost shocking.

Masami merely spread her fan open and brought it before her face, drawing on her impressive reserves of patience. She didn't say a word.

Hayato scowled even harder before something seemed to occur to him and he panicked. Loudly. "Is it Juudaime!? What happened!? Is Juudaime alright!? Spit it out already!"

The bomber always had the most interesting reactions, she thought absently. "Sawada-san fell from the school rooftop today," she revealed and waited for the fireworks to start.

The drain of blood from Hayato's face was almost worrying. He even wavered on his feet, like he couldn't keep himself upright. " _What!?_ Juudaime fell from the _rooftop_!? While I wasn't there!? Juudaime, I'm so sorry, I've failed as your Right-Hand Man! I'm not worthy! Oi, maiko witch, is Juudaime alright!? _Tell me!_ "

Masami couldn't help but twitch when he grabbed her shoulders and started shaking her. Kyoya was hardly one for physical gestures, and Tsunayoshi was much too in awe of her to touch her so casually. It took honest to God _effort_ to keep from going with her first instinct when faced with the unwelcome contact, which was to throw him down the stairs.

"Gokudera-san, please. Stop that," she stated, taking a step back and holding her fan between them as a barrier. "Sawada-san is quite alright. He's at the school right now."

The words had barely left her mouth before Hayato took off, leaving a literal trail of dust behind him. "Juudaime! I'm coming!" he shouted as he ran to the school, almost getting run over during the process.

Masami stared after him. "Maybe I could have broken the news to him a bit gentler," she mused to herself, closing and locking his door for him. Then again— "My paperwork needs to look at least somewhat intelligent."

Even if she was quite good at it, all of the papers piling up on her desk made her uneasy for some reason, enough for her to make the decision to start dishing out mandatory work as part of detention. And if _nothing_ else, Gokudera Hayato was very smart.

If a bit blindsided when the matter of Sawada Tsunayoshi came up.

* * *

 "Masami."

"Yes, Onii-san?"

"What happened to the paperwork?"

"It was taken care of."

"...I see. Dinner?"

"Gyoza. And then dango."

"Hn."

* * *

Masami never bothered to go back and chaperone the boys, so she missed out on Hayato and Takeshi's first meeting. It didn't matter. She picked up on the animosity easily the first time she reluctantly detached herself from her duties to have lunch with Tsunayoshi again.

Then again, even the deaf, blind, and dumb would have been able to detect the rivalry humming in the air.

"Greetings."

"Yo, Masami!" Takeshi grinned at her, lifting a hand in greeting.

"You're here again, maiko witch?" Hayato scowled.

"Hahaha, what a weird nickname. I guess it fits though."

"Shut up, baseball idiot! No one asked you!"

"Masami-san!" Tsunayoshi beamed, so very open in his happiness that Masami wondered if Reborn would ever be able to teach this boy not to wear his heart on his sleeve. "You're free today?"

"Hai." Masami settled down a few meters away from the squabbling boys and sipped at her tea. "There's a test in English tomorrow. Are you adequately prepared?"

Tsunayoshi smiled tentatively. "Yeah. I think so."

"Juudaime's perfect!" Hayato shot back less than half a second later. "Don't you dare belittle him!"

"Gokudera-kun, it's okay, Masami-san's just concerned about my grades..." Tsunayoshi squirmed in place.

"As she should be," Reborn said approvingly, appearing out of a hiding place in the wall—Masami made a note to investigate the school for any further changes the hitman had introduced—in a teacher outfit, complete with glasses and a pointer. "Your pronunciation is a disgrace to the Vongola."

"Hiieee! I told you, Reborn, I'm not going to become a Mafia Boss!"

"You're part of the mafia game, too?" Takeshi laughed, entirely unperturbed. "That's great! Did the kid make you go through the entrance test? How did you do?"

"Entrance Test?" Masami repeated slowly.

"Don't worry, all of the damage was repaired," Reborn said, which wasn't reassuring at all. "There was no need to put Masami through the Entrance Test, Yamamoto. She's not in the famiglia yet." He shot a pointed look at Tsunayoshi, who frowned.

"Reborn-san!" Hayato protested loudly, glaring venomously at Masami, which had no effect on said girl whatsoever. "You want the maiko witch to join Juudaime's famiglia!?"

"She's powerful," was Reborn's justification.

Hayato spluttered.

"...Sawada-san, perhaps we should review your English," Masami suggested, making the executive decision to ignore the ranting bomber.

Tsunayoshi spluttered.

Quizzing Tsunayoshi while Hayato and Takeshi made nuisances of themselves in the background wasn't so difficult, even if it did give her a headache. Every now and then, Masami reminisced wistfully of the peaceful quiet of her elementary school days, when it was just her, her brother, and their sole friend.

Juggling all of these boys, while not entirely unwelcome, was _taxing_ on her patience and energy.

Still, lenient or not, she drew the line when the dynamite came out again.

* * *

"A Sky can have six different Guardians: Storm, Rain, Lightning, Cloud, Sun, and Mist."

_"Yes."_

"Skies are incredibly rare, and they naturally draw in other Flames for Harmonization. Generally, Skies only feel complete when they have a full set of Elements, and Elements only feel complete when they have a Sky."

_"Correct."_

"There are two types of Flames: Classic and Inverted. They tend to be opposites in personality, though not in ability. Sawada-san, for example, would be a Classic Sky, very friendly, kind, and forgiving to everyone who crosses his path."

_"Also correct."_

"What would an inverted Sky be like?"

_"Very picky, very closed off, very fussy about their people, but equally as accepting of those who are theirs. All Skies tend to be remarkably untroubled by their Elements once Harmonization has occurred, regardless of who those people eventually become."_

"Do the Flames develop because of personality, or does personality develop because of Flame?"

_"You would be better off asking a philosopher or a scientist that question. However, I can tell you that what few characteristics many people believe are associated with Flames are rather general, much like your zodiac sign, for example."_

"So they're a guideline, not a psychoanalysis. There are deviations, based on gender, environmental factors, surrounding individuals, unique circumstances, etcetera, etcetera."

_"That's right. In addition, as people become more Flame Active, the general character traits of their Flame become stronger. Physical age is also a big factor. This is why Mafioso train their children; the younger they are, the easier they are to mold."_

"So...as Sawada-san continues to mature and develop his Sky Flame, he'll become more...Classic Sky-like."

_"Yes."_

She sighed.

* * *

"Hey, Masami!" Takeshi poked his head into the Reception Room with a bright grin. "Oh, sorry, am I interrupting something?"

There was a beat while Yachi, Arishima, and Odaka exchanged glances and collectively decided to return to trying to destroy the paperwork—sadly, it was never-ending—through the power of their glares alone.

It didn't seem to be working very well.

"Yamamoto-san." Masami looked up from the filing cabinet with a calm smile, automatically breathing through the tight ball of tension in her chest before it could manifest visibly. Four hours of continuous working didn't seem to be doing anything for her mood. "Is there something you need?"

"Nah," he said with an easy laugh. "We—me, Tsuna, and Gokudera, I mean—were going to go eat at my dad's place, TakeSushi. Do you want to come?"

Masami considered. It wasn't the first time she had been invited along on one of their excursions, though she had politely rejected most of their offers before, courtesy of the ever-increasing amount of work on her plate and her own desire to stay away from the noise and chaos that surrounded the trio. As for today...

On one hand, there was duty and obligation and paperwork. On the other hand, there was conversation and herbivores and anarchy. The former would only continue to grow if she neglected it now. The latter could probably level the whole town by accident. Which was the lesser of the two evils?

Arishima groaned and there was a distinct _thunk_ that indicated he had just dropped his head down onto his stack of paperwork, conveniently reminding her that Kyoya was out patrolling and the prefects were looking to her for instruction now.

With the herbivores it was.

"I believe I will," Masami decided, closing the cabinet. "Thank you for the invitation, Yamamoto-san." Gathering up her belongings quickly, she slung her bag over her shoulder and walked past the athlete when he held the door open for her.

"No problem," Takeshi said, grinning. They strolled down the hallway, but before they could turn the corner, they both clearly heard the sigh of relief from behind them. Oh dear, that wouldn't do, now would it? Onii-san would be annoyed if he came back to find his prefects lazing around.

She exhaled gradually through her nose in lieu of a sigh.

Masami smiled. "Excuse me for a moment." Ignoring Takeshi's curious glance, she turned on her heel and mimicked his earlier intrusion. "Before I forget"—all three of the prefects jumped a good meter in the air—"Yachi-san, Arishima-san, Odaka-san, three laps around the school, one hundred sit ups, and forty push ups today."

She paused. "And if you don't do it, I'll want to know why," Masami added and left again.

Takeshi was silent when she rejoined him, allowing the long, drawn-out groans of the perfects to echo down the hallway. However, when they were finally out of range, he burst into laughter. "Wow, you keep them on a tight leash, huh?"

Masami blinked guilelessly. "Your coach doesn't do the same?"

His laughter hitched slightly, and his eyes darted towards his cast, but when he looked back at her, Takeshi's eyes were clear and bright. "Yeah, sure, but not like that. He's not nearly as mean about it either."

"Yamamoto-san, I am the youngest, shortest, and lightest member of the Disciplinary Committee," she replied. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Hahaha, maybe, but I noticed you didn't say 'weakest' or 'nicest', right, Masami?"

Hmm, perceptive, she thought. Disregarding his depressive tendencies, Masami might actually enjoy talking with this herbivore. "It _was_ implied," she said as they cleared the school doors and headed towards the gates, where Tsunayoshi and Hayato were waiting. "Greetings."

"Good afternoon, Masami-san," Tsunayoshi chirped back with a bow and a radiant smile, apparently in a fantastic mood today. Briefly, she was terribly envious. "You're coming with us?"

"I decided my paperwork could wait a few more hours, yes."

"What, slacking?" Hayato scowled at her, not that that was new. "I thought you were supposed to be some super special, all-powerful secretary or something."

"Please don't exaggerate, Gokudera-san," Masami said as Takeshi began to lead the way. "If I was truly omniscient, I would hardly have so much paperwork."

"God forbid you ever become omniscient," Hayato muttered. "We would all be doomed."

Takeshi laughed. "That's not nice at all, Gokudera!"

"Shut up, baseball idiot! God forbid you become omniscient, too!"

Masami tilted her head, but she wasn’t looking at the arguing duo. Sandwiched between the two, Tsunayoshi looked a tad overwhelmed, but he was grinning, his shoulders were relaxed, and his eyes seemed to glow with an inner happiness.

It didn't take a genius to see that he was much more content with how matters were nowadays.

She dropped back just a bit and hid her smile behind her fan. Her gaze drifted towards the horizon, where the sun was sinking and the sky was brilliant crimson, and she couldn't help but think that this silly boy wouldn't need her much longer.

* * *

"Onii-san, I don't suppose you'd be interested in Flames?" Masami brought up one night over dinner.

Kyoya glanced up from his bowl. "Flames," he repeated blankly.

She smiled. "Flames. Sawada-san's forehead lights up with an orange fire when he's shot by Reborn-san's bullet. That sort of Flame."

He chewed slowly on his udon and swallowed. "Did Otou-san tell you this?"

"Hai."

"So it's Mafia," Kyoya summarized.

"Mmm, yes."

He thought about it. "Can it be used as a weapon?"

Masami laughed lowly. "It's a _Flame_ , Onii-san."

"Humph." He covered a yawn with his hand and finished the rest of his bowl before saying, "Tell me more."

She smiled demurely.

* * *

It was raining.

Masami snapped her umbrella open and stepped outside of the protection of the school roof hesitantly. Instantly, the sound of raindrops hitting the black fabric sang through the air and vibrated down the metal to make her hand shake.

She sighed, but a small smile quirked her lips. It smelled of fresh beginnings and cool ozone, and suddenly, it was so much easier to breathe. While she missed the thunder and lightning of a true storm, this was...nice. Summer showers were invigorating, in their own way. 

Masami began the long trek back home, carefully avoiding the puddles already accumulated on the road. There was no one but her around, which made sense, seeing as how it was around eight and the rain had started an hour ago. It was rare for Namimori to receive such heavy downpour, and most of the citizens had already dashed away for cover.

Onii-san was already back home, seeing as she had been held up by the paperwork. God only knew where her boys were. Her neck ached, but her shoulders relaxed and her steps slowed.

The only sound in the streets was the clack of her boots on the wet concrete and the soothing sound of rainfall.

With the flood of water, the constant smog in the air and the dust on the buildings were being washed away. She hummed quietly to herself, occasionally bracing the umbrella against brief gusts of wind. Her bag was already damp, but she couldn't bring herself to care.

"Oi, Masami, is that you?"

Halting, she turned at the familiar voice. Standing near the supermarket's entrance, Takeshi grinned sheepishly at her, arm laden with plastic bags full of produce. He didn't have an umbrella, but with his bad arm, it wouldn't have mattered anyhow.

Masami breathed out a sigh, reining in the initial flash of irritation—her peace was going to be disturbed, it seemed, whether she liked it or not—and moved to meet her classmate. "Greetings, Yamamoto-san. Would you appreciate some assistance?"

He laughed. "Yeah, sorry. My dad wanted me to get some fish, but, well, the rain was a bit of a surprise. Mind giving me a trip back to the restaurant?"

"Of course not. Here, I'll take care of this." She took his bags from him and handed him her umbrella. "You're taller than I am."

"Huh." Takeshi glanced between them, somehow only seeming to notice now that he was 178 cm to her current 157. For God's sake, she was shorter than Tsunayoshi without the boots. "Yeah, I guess I am."

She smiled and pretended she wasn't mildly annoyed. "There's a science test tomorrow, Yamamoto-san. Are you prepared?"

He laughed cheerfully as they began to walk, carefully trying to keep in-step with each other. "Nope," he said, popping the p. "Are you?"

"Yes," Masami said in a pointed 'of course' tone. But—"I do hope you realize your grade is borderline in that class?" It was like Tsunayoshi Take Two.

"How do you even know that?"

"Disciplinary Committee."

Takeshi sweatdropped. "Man...Hibari's pretty powerful, huh?"

She looked at him sideways slyly. "Did Sawada-san and Gokudera-san ever tell you about the time we indirectly fired Nezu-sensei?"

He spluttered for a second, golden brown eyes lighting up with interest not long later. "No, how did that happen?"

By the time they were standing in front of the doors of TakeSushi, Takeshi was laughing helplessly, almost getting them both soaked when the umbrella wavered. "This Mafia Game is really fun, isn't it?" he said, gasping for breath.

"That's one way to look at it," she agreed as the doors slid open.

Yamamoto Tsuyoshi greeted them with a relieved grin and a towel in his hands. "Takeshi, there you are! I was getting worried."

"Sorry, dad," Takeshi apologized. "Hey, you've met Masami before. She let me borrow her umbrella."

"I can see that." Tsuyoshi turned to Masami with a kind smile. "Thank you for looking after my son, Masami-chan. Here, let me take that...and please wait here for a second." He grabbed the plastic bags and hurried back inside the restaurant, leaving her with the towel.

Masami looked down at the pale blue cloth and then at Takeshi. "Shall we switch?"

He laughed and obligingly offered her the umbrella, the two of them shielded from the rain by the eaves. "I guess it's not really necessary now, but..." He shrugged and rubbed the towel through his hair.

Tsuyoshi walked back out with a large wooden dragon-shaped container in his hands, the sushi inside placed both tastefully and artfully. "Please take this as a sign of our gratitude," he said, extending the gift to her.

Masami blinked, momentarily startled, but quickly recovered with a slightly warmer smile than usual. "Thank you very much."

When she got back home at last, she wasn't particularly surprised to discover the sushi was delicious. She decided to keep the wooden dragon as a decoration; it really was quite ornamental.

* * *

In hindsight, Masami really should have anticipated this.

But for some reason, when she opened her front door and found Tsunayoshi, Hayato, Reborn, _and_ Takeshi standing outside, she was entirely unprepared.

Appropriately, Tsunayoshi was staring at her with a deer-in-headlights look, Hayato was glaring sullenly at her, Reborn was smiling with childish glee, and Takeshi looked entirely oblivious.

Inwardly, she grimaced, entirely unenthusiastic. A headache began pounding at her temples. This honestly wasn't something she wanted to deal with on one of her few days off. Outwardly, she bowed elegantly, tone coming out even, if dry, "Greetings."

"Ciaossu, Masami." Reborn was decked out in a samurai outfit today, boosting a kabuto that looked far too heavy for a baby.

"S-Sorry about this, Masami-san," Tsunayoshi said with a nervous smile, bowing back. He was already fidgeting in place as if psyching himself up for a dreadful biting.

"Just get on with it, maiko witch." Hayato scowled and sent dark looks at the athlete from the corner of his eyes. It would be wonderful if he could ever tone down the aggression, but she wasn't holding her breath.

Takeshi didn't even seem to notice. That took true talent. "Yo, Masami! Wow, is this your house? It looks really cool!"

"It is, and thank you." Masami turned around, throwing over her shoulder, "Shoes off, please. Sawada-san, Onii-san's in a mood." Tsunayoshi went four shades paler. "Gokudera-san, cigarettes and dynamite are not permitted." Even without looking, she could feel the weight of Hayato's glare. "Yamamoto-san, welcome to the Hibari household."

"Hahaha, thanks!" Takeshi looked around curiously, carefully keeping his bad arm tucked to his side. "Hey, you guys are pretty traditional. My dad's like that, too, sometimes."

"We are a very traditional family," Masami agreed, stopping and turning in front of the training room. "Sawada-san, Onii-san's waiting for you."

Hayato sulked openly. "Juudaime, remember, you absolutely don't have to do this if you don't want to!"

"Eeh?" Takeshi scratched his head, confused. "The kid said that you and Hibari were going to be playing a game. Is it dangerous?"

"Re _born_!" Tsunayoshi complained, but Reborn just kicked him in the back, sending him flying through the door Masami conveniently opened at the right moment. "Hiiieeeee!"

"Herbivore, quie—" they heard Kyoya snap before Masami closed the door with a firm click.

Masami snapped open her fan and considered the two boys over it. "Yamamoto-san, do you know how to fight?" she asked, because this was a difference between life-or-death in the world they were dabbling in. And, like Tsunayoshi, looking after the boy would be less of a hassle if he knew how to defend himself.

Takeshi looked blank. "No, not really?"

"Good idea, Masami," Reborn remarked. "Yamamoto, knowing how to fight is a special skill in the mafia game. You won't be able to win without it."

"Oh, really?" Despite his easy words, a spark of competitiveness lit up in his eyes and there was an edge to his smile. "Guess I better learn quickly, huh?"

"You idiot, it's not that simple!" Hayato flared up, though his eyes never left the evil double doors currently blocking the sight of his precious Tenth from him.

"Excellent," Masami said, ignoring Hayato's outburst. "Right this way, please. Gokudera-san and I will be happy to teach you the basics."

Hayato's eye twitched. "Wait, what!? Don't go deciding things for me, maiko witch!"

"If Yamamoto isn't strong, then Tsuna's going to get hurt," Reborn said.

"Just you wait, baseball idiot! I'm going to make you the second best subordinate Juudaime will ever have!" Hayato declared passionately, eyes seeming to light up from the inside with the flames of his conviction.

"Hahaha, then who's the best?" Takeshi asked.

"Me, of course!"

"Nah, I think you switched the two."

"What did you say, baseball idiot!?

"He's a natural-born hitman," Reborn said to Masami, who was leading the two arguing herbivores to the second sparring room. "Just like you."

She hummed noncommittally. "And you?"

"Of course." Reborn smiled. "So you should know exactly how to train him."

* * *

Masami narrowed her eyes when Tsunayoshi burst into her office late one afternoon after school, babbling about bubble gum and pizza and bicycles. What in the world? Just how much trouble could one person get into?

"Sawada-san," she cut in smoothly and watched while he broke off mid-word and gasped for breath. "Please turn around, leave my office, remember your manners, and _knock_."

He gaped at her, blatantly disbelieving. "But, Masami-san—"

"Now. If you wouldn't mind." She didn't relent, already plenty tired from fighting her migraine.

Tsunayoshi's shoulders slumped, but he obediently turned and left, closing the door behind him. Half a second later, there was a polite knock on the door.

Masami smiled calmly, and if there was a measure of vindictiveness in there, then no one was around to comment. "Come in."

Tsunayoshi opened the door and stepped into the room meekly, bowing. "Hello, Masami-san."

She nodded. "Greetings, Sawada-san. Much better. Now, what would the problem be?"

He went paper-white in two seconds flat, gripping desperately at his hair. It was almost impressive. "There'sanItalianhitmanouttokillme!"

She blinked. Paused. "...slower, if you would."

Tsunayoshi took a deep breath. "There's an Italian hitman out to kill me!"

"I fail to see how that's new," Masami replied without batting an eyelid, signing a form and setting it in the 'done' pile. "If I recall correctly, the same criteria fits for Gokudera-san and Reborn-san, in a way."

He made a face at her, throwing himself down, face-first, on a nearby sofa. "Not like that, Masami-san! Bianchi really, really wants to kill me! And it's because of Reborn this time, too!"

"How so?" she asked dutifully, continuing to go through her paperwork. Her boot tapped restlessly on the floor in time with the slow violin music being played from the small black radio in the corner.

"Apparently, Bianchi is Reborn's fourth lover. Lover! Does he even know what that word means!? I mean—" Tsunayoshi fumbled his words, gesturing violently with his hands. "Reborn's a _baby_!"

He's an Arcobaleno, she thought to herself, but said nothing. It wasn't her secret to tell. "And she wants to kill you because...?" Masami rather thought that Tsunayoshi, trouble or not, was a relatively likable boy, very much a Sky when it came down to it.

Not that it appeared to be helping him at the moment. "Because she got this idea that I was chaining Reborn down or something and only killing me will free him!" Tsunayoshi wailed, burying his face into a pillow.

She paused in her work to flick an incredulous look at her classmate. Upon seeing that he was entirely serious, Masami sighed and wondered how someone could be so dense. "Sawada-san, do try and think things through for once."

He lifted his head up to pout at her, disgruntled and as adorable as a small fluffy bunny. She hid her amusement expertly. "What does _that_ mean, Masami-san?"

"It means to stop and think," she scolded lightly, signing off another request and flexing her fingers. "From the sounds of it, this Bianchi-san is a seasoned, professional hitmen, yes?"

"Yeah..." Tsunayoshi trailed off, head tilted.

Masami raised an eyebrow. "For one, if a true hitmen attempted to kill you, Sawada-san, you would be dead." She ignored the small "hieeee!" this prompted. "For two, I highly doubt your tutor would actually allow you to be killed. For three, you're going to ruin that pillow soon."

He made a face at the last part but put the pillow he had been clutching to death down. "I'm not so sure about the Reborn protecting me part. Have you been paying attention to what Reborn's been making me doing, Masami-san!? He's going to kill me himself! Bianchi isn't going to have to do anything!"

"Your death would result in him failing his mission," she pointed out. "And Reborn-san doesn't strike me as someone who tolerates failure."

"Hieee! That's a terrible reason!" Tsunayoshi protested, looking absolutely horrified.

Masami merely smiled and shrugged. Her foot continued to tap gently.

* * *

_"Bianchi?"_

"Yes." Because, regardless of what she had said to Tsunayoshi, assassins were to be treated with caution. Not everyone was protected by Reborn, and Masami was somewhat obligated to ensure her town would remain safe.

" _She's the Poison Scorpion, a freelance hitmen specializing in Poison Cooking. Don't ever eat anything she offers you."_

"What would her connection to Reborn-san be?"

_"Poison Scorpion Bianchi has been known to take missions from the World's Greatest Hitman."_

"I see. Thank you for your assistance, Okaa-san."

* * *

The first thing Masami noticed about Bianchi was that her green eyes echoed Hayato's. Which, well, could possibly explain why said bomber was in the corner, throwing up in a nearby trash can. Mafia families tended to be a bit convoluted.

"Greetings," Masami said, bowing.

Bianchi flicked a sideways look at her from over the pot of simmering liquid she was stirring. The contents were not only purple but also emanating some very dizzying odors. "Who are you?" she asked. "Decimo's girlfriend?"

"No," Masami denied serenely as Tsunayoshi began choking on his own spit next to her. "I would be his classmate. And you're the hitman trying to kill him." Although, given Reborn's penchant for chaos, she was more of the opinion that the Poison Scorpion was here to play bodyguard, and the obsession with Reborn was a convenient cover.

"Masami-san—!" Tsunayoshi wailed at her bluntness, arms flailing.

Bianchi snorted, a wry smile curling her lips. "So I am. What are you going to do about it?"

Masami tilted her head and considered Bianchi closely. "Have you ever used botulinum toxin before?"

A spark of interest flared in the older woman's razor-sharp eyes.

"It looks like Masami likes poisons, too," Reborn commented to Tsunayoshi, sitting on the counter top with a gas mask on his face and dressed in a suit with the toxic sign on the front.

Tsunayoshi fainted. Whether that was from the vapors or the thought of Bianchi and Masami teaming up was anyone's guess. It didn't stop Hayato from pausing in his puking to yelp, "Juudaime!"

Bianchi eyed the unconscious boy and smiled, slow and lethal. "We'll talk," she said. "Personally, I like death heater better."

* * *

There was a new nurse at school.

Strange, how the old nurse had suddenly, accidentally, coincidentally caught a problematic illness and had had to be moved into a hospital far, far away from Namimori, dropping his position within five hours upon contracting.

And of course, it was a complete fluke that the new school nurse was a thirty-five-year-old pervert who liked to hit on females, refused to treat males, and was a renowned assassin who had apparently once saved Tsuna's life.

At Reborn's request.

Such a lovely, queer stroke of luck, really. She was getting rather tired of coincidences.

Masami wandered into the Nurse's Room on a Thursday, right after school. The new nurse was in his office, and so, she settled down on one of the very uncomfortable stools set out in disorderly rows to wait. There were several pamphlets free for the taking on the shelf.

 _Protect Yourself from STDs!_ one said. _Wash Your Hands Correctly,_ another scolded. _Don't Handle Your Depression Alone_ , the third advised. _Keep Your Temper in Control,_ the last counseled.

Masami reached out and took five of the third and four of the last. Half a second later, the new nurse finally walked out and immediately beamed, two bright spots of color appearing on his cheeks.

"Hello, beautiful," Shamal, also known as Trident Shamal, according to her mother's contact, leered at her. "What's wrong? Are you hurt? Want me to kiss it better?"

"No, and no, thank you. Welcome to Namimori Middle, Dr. Shamal." Masami smiled and rose to her feet, gripping tightly onto her fan. "I'm afraid that the Disciplinary Committee has received some complaints about you as of late."

"Maa, I'm sure it's nothing to worry about," he drawled, shuffling closer to her while his eyes dipped far below her chin. "You really are quite stunning, you know. Now, about that kiss..."

She took a clear step back, smile never wavering. "Dr. Shamal, the school hired you for your capabilities in the field of medicine. If you cannot fulfill those duties, then please feel free to leave."

At that, Shamal paused at last, dark eyes sharpening as they drew back up to meet hers. "Come on, sweetheart, it can't be that bad," he coaxed, even as he leaned back, hands in his pockets.

"If you incite discomfort in the females of this school and refuse to treat the males, then there will be no need for you to remain as school nurse," Masami elaborated. "Please rethink your policies if need be and revise your behavior, or otherwise, resign."

With that, she spun on her heel, fighting the urge to slash the man's face open when he made some parting comment about her legs and how he adored strong-willed women.

It was almost as if, just for a second there, there hadn't been a flicker of lethal focus, an assassin's attention. Almost.

Well, now she supposed she knew who she was going to avoid for the rest of the school year if he actually stayed.

Before she closed the door behind her, Masami's eye caught on another stack of free pamphlets.

_Give Up Smoking Today!_

She ended up grabbing three of those.

* * *

"H-Hibari-san?" Tsuna squeaked. He had known immediately what Reborn was up to when he suggested using the Reception Room as their "mafia hideout," but protesting hadn't been of any use, as always.

Hibari sat on the back of a large black sofa casually, surveying the trio with apathetic gray eyes. "Omnivore," he greeted lowly. "Keep your voice down and get rid of your herd. I hate crowds."

Ignoring how Gokudera instinctively bristled on his left and Yamamoto shifted slightly on his right, Tsuna blinked and tilted his head to the side. The crowd thing wasn't new, but...he hadn't really been talking in a loud voice.

Catching sight of his confusion, Hibari scowled and shifted a fraction to the right, just enough for them to glimpse the dark-haired girl asleep on the sofa behind the prefect. Oh. _Oh_.

Tsuna took a step forward despite himself, eyes widening. "Masami-san?" She was sleeping beneath a thin blanket, one hand lying beside her peaceful face and black hair, still in her usual hairstyle, dramatic against the white pillow.

"What's the maiko witch doing, asleep at a time like this?" Gokudera demanded, but his voice was quieter than usual. "It's the middle of the day! What is she, a cat or something?"

"Hahaha, calm down, Gokudera." Yamamoto clasped a hand on the bomber's shoulder, to his visible ire. The baseball player spoke quietly, too. "Masami must be tired, yeah?"

"She's been busy dealing with the idiocy of your antics," Hibari explained carelessly. "If you herbivores wake my sister, I'll bite you to death. Leave."

Tsuna went still. Now that he thought about it, maybe Masami's smiles were a bit more strained than usual, maybe Masami had been more reserved and quiet than usual, but it was _Masami_ so—so—

Had he really been bothering her?

(Later, when he would ask her, she would raise an eyebrow at him and inform him coolly that he was being awfully self-centered. He would sputter and protest and believe her.)

"Why, you—" Gokudera cut himself off, evidently wanting to shout but knowing better. He glared helplessly at the unconcerned prefect, probably just itching to light up a dynamite stick.

As if reading his mind, Yamamoto warned, "Hey, Gokudera, don't get out your fireworks just yet, okay? You might wake up Masami, and that wouldn't be good."

"They're not fireworks, you stupid baseball freak!"

Spotting the murderous intent on Hibari's face, Tsuna winced and started to back away slowly. "Guys? Let's leave for now, alright?"

"Whatever you say, Juudaime!"

"Hahaha, alright, Tsuna!"

Disaster averted. Mostly. Hibari still ended up biting Tsuna to death during their spar later.

* * *

For the nth time that week, Hayato's damn sister was hanging around Juudaime, making more and more abominations of cooking. Naturally, Hayato had a duty as the Vongola Tenth's Right-Hand Man to protect his Boss, and unsurprisingly, he was throwing up in the corner yet again.

As it was, he was too busy fighting down the nausea to focus on anything other than the contents of his stomach forcing itself up his esophagus. In fact, he only really roused from his stupor when he was gently forced to sit down by two hands on his shoulders.

Daring to crack his eyes open, he was startled to see the clear blue sky above.

Bianchi was nowhere in sight.

Neither was... "Juudaime!" Hayato shot to his feet, but before he could take a step, his lack of balance caught up to him, and he wavered unsteadily.

"Easy," a familiar, irritating voice soothed, a hand wrapping itself around his wrist and yanking him down again. "Please. Sawada-san's just fine."

Hayato already knew who was sitting next to him on the curb of the sidewalk, but he turned his head to frown at Masami anyway. "Maiko witch, what the hell!?"

He didn't care how many people thought she was an angel; the glance she directed at him was clearly sardonic, even if her voice came out as pristine and sweet as always. "I'm sorry, would you rather I have left you back there with your sister?"

Hayato couldn't help but blanch at the thought, glaring at the amusement that twinkled in her eyes in response. "Oh, shut up," he muttered, resigning himself to the inevitable. Leaning back with a sigh, he got out a cigarette and lit it, blowing out a ring of smoke.

He didn't smoke around Juudaime, what with the risks of second-hand smoke, and he'd been trying to cut back recently, because his Boss had mentioned that it would be nice if Hayato could tone down the habit a little. The Tenth had even been kind enough to offer Hayato a brochure for quitting!

Not that Hayato would actually need it if he decided to quit, but he appreciated the gesture. No one had ever put so much personal effort into ensuring a worthless half-breed's safety, and he didn't want to disappoint his Boss.

Damned Bianchi was his exception to everything though.

Belatedly, Hayato noted Masami's disapproving stare. Which, no, he wasn't going to listen to her shitty criticism. "What? I'm not at school, I'm not at your house, we're outside! What more do you want, dammit!?"

She tilted her head, reaching up to fiddle absently with the white and purple flowers of her kanzashi. "You'll need to find a better way to light your dynamite," she said in an apparent non-sequitur.

He blinked. "What?"

"That's why you started smoking, isn't it? For a fast, convenient method to ignite your dynamite." She fanned herself absently with graceful, practiced twists of her wrist. "It's not foolproof, and it's unhealthy. Perhaps you might consider an alternative?"

Hayato hesitated, torn between yelling indignantly at his classmate and actually considering her words. It would have been easier if he could honestly say that she had no idea what she was talking about, but he couldn't. She had taken him out with those fans before, easily at that.

Besides, sometimes having a brain like his was annoying, because now that he considered it, she was _right_ , damn it! It wasn't like Hayato didn't know the consequences of smoking, but _Mafia_ , enough said.

He had never counted on living a long life.

 _"I assure you, a_ corpse _has never been of any use to a leader, any leader, let alone a Mafia Boss._

Words the witch sitting next to him had said, said witch currently tracing the clouds with her eyes almost dreamily. When she wasn't unfairly hitting Juudaime and nagging Hayato, she had a quiet presence, soft as the silk on her fans.

If you ignored the lethal iron designs crafted on them like an idiot, of course. He wasn't an idiot.

Hayato snorted. "Yeah, yeah, whatever." He got to his feet and walked away.

* * *

"Onii-san, where are you going?"

"The pole-knocking event."

"...why?"

"The pathetic herbivores in charge of leading team B and C are unconscious."

"...and?"

"There's a possibility I might be able to fight the baby."

"...have fun, Onii-san."

"Finish the paperwork."

"Hai, hai."

* * *

Somehow, it wasn't even a surprise to receive a panicked call from Tsunayoshi before the sun had even fully appeared over the horizon. It was becoming a bad habit of his, really. She nonchalantly contemplated siccing Ryohei on him, but she actually found his complaints valid this time around.

"M-Masami-san! I-I th-think I just k-k-killed someone!" he shrieked through the receiver, sounding half hysterical and half neurotic. He was also sobbing lowly and probably trying to tear his hair out.

"...hmm," she muttered after a moment, overlooking the stuttering for once. To be honest, Masami had expected to have to deal with Kyoya's first kill before Tsunayoshi's. Impressively enough, her brother had managed to keep it to broken bones and deep bruises.

"MASAMI-SAAAAAAN!" Tsunayoshi cried, sniffing audibly. She wondered if he was crying already. Albeit it was for a good reason today, so perhaps she wouldn't reprimand him later.

"Calm down. I'll be there in five minutes. Breakfast isn't ready yet." Kyoya would hardly be impressed if Masami simply rushed out the door without finishing the meal at least. She had also been up until midnight last night finishing the last of her work, so Masami was still working through the last vestiges of sleep.

Tsunayoshi whimpered.

* * *

"Hmm." Masami nudged the corpse lying prostrate on the ground thoughtfully, fan covering the bottom half of her face. "He does appear to be dead..." There was no breathing or heartbeat anyhow. Still...

"Wow!" Takeshi grinned, ignorant to the horrified looks directed at him from almost everyone else in the room. "This mafia game's so realistic, huh, Tsuna?"

There was a moment of silence.

Takeshi turned to look at his friend with a concerned furrow of his brow. "Tsuna?"

And...that seemed to shock Tsunayoshi out of his frozen state. Sadly.

"Hieeeee!" Tsunayoshi screeched in despair, tears glinting in his eyes. She restrained the urge to wince at the loud noise. "My life is over! I should just turn myself into the authorities right now and go to jail!"

"C-Come on, Juudaime!" Hayato hastily reassured, looking rather discomforted himself. "I'm sure it won't be that bad! Reborn-san, can't you do anything?"

"Masami's already here, isn't she?" Reborn sipped at his cup of coffee calmly, unperturbed by the entire scenario. "Can't you do something about this, Masami?"

Tsunayoshi, Hayato, and Takeshi spun around to stare at her with wide eyes, as if they thought she was going to pull out a magical wand and wave it, thereby returning everything to normal. While it was somewhat flattering that they thought so highly of her, Masami found it more exasperating than anything.

Speaking of normal, that girl with brown hair...

"Sawada-san. Introductions, if you please." Masami curled her fan around and began to air herself with it, blinking at the other girl. Wasn't that the uniform of Midori Middle? At least someone here _wasn't_ one of hers.

(Kyoya was the one who took people under his wing as easy as breathing, shouldered the burden of their safety, expectations, lives, hopes, and dreams without even seeming to notice. Masami wasn't like that, not really, for all that she was training his prefects and giving out orders in his absence and watching over three reckless idiots.)

"That's not the important thing here, you damn witch!" Hayato exploded, eyebrow twitching erratically, but Tsuna jolted upright, gulping hard as he realized what he had forgotten in his panic. The time she had spent drilling manners into him hadn't entirely gone to waste, after all.

"Ah! Haru, this is Hibari Masami. Masami-san, this is Miura Haru," Tsuna said, honey-brown eyes flickering between them nervously. "I'm sorry...this is a bad way for the two of you to meet…"

"No matter," Masami said calmly, sweeping out into a graceful bow. "Greetings, Miura-san. It's a pleasure to meet you. Do please call me Masami."

"H-Hahi! It's very nice to meet you, too!" Haru, looking a bit unsteady, bowed back, smiling brightly. "Can you really help Tsuna-san with...this?" She gestured at the body, cringing.

Masami shrugged and let loose with her fan.

_BAM!_

"KYAAA! DAMN IT, THAT HURT!" The presumed-dead-thief jumped up, howling like a little girl, hands gripping at the three-tiered lump that was blooming on the top of his head.

"There. Problem solved."

"Hieeeee!? He was alive, all along!?"

"Hahaha, apparently. Isn't this great, Tsuna?"

"There's nothing great about it at all, baseball freak!"

* * *

"What is the head of a branch of the Famiglia?" Masami asked.

Tsunayoshi bit his bottom lip, rubbing absently at the developing bruise on his cheek. "Uhhh...a _consigliere_?"

"Incorrect. That would be the _caporegime_ or _capodecina,_ normally shortened down to _capo_ ," she read from the book Reborn had procured out of nowhere two Saturdays ago.

"Dame-Tsuna, you're pathetic," Reborn commented, sipping happily at his espresso. Masami was getting better at making Reborn's drinks to his taste; this one only took five tries while Tsunayoshi was slammed into the floor by Kyoya, and Takeshi ran around dodging bombs.

"I'm _trying_ , Reborn," Tsunayoshi muttered, covering a yawn, the adrenaline rush probably close to wearing off. "I don't even want to be a mafia boss," he continued, softer this time like it was an afterthought.

They both ignored the latter comment, Masami because that honestly wasn't her concern and Reborn because he didn't care what his student wanted. "The _consigliere_ is the adviser of the Famiglia, Sawada-san," the dancer explained.

"There's also the Outside Adviser, which would be CEDEF in the Vongola's case," Reborn said.

"What's that?" Tsunayoshi downed his cup of tea and slid it down the table. Masami refilled it obligingly.

"It stands for—"

"No, no, _no_!" Hayato shouted from across the room. "It's _mat-ii-ta_ , not _maaa-tita_!"

Takeshi only hummed understandingly. "Oh, so it's _matita_?"

"No, it isn't, you stupid baseball idiot! How the fuck are you getting this wrong!? It's the word for 'pencil', goddammit!" Hayato sounded like he was ready to tear out his hair.

"Hahaha, this Italian stuff is hard."

"— _Consulenza Esterna Della Famiglia_ ," Reborn said without missing a beat, the Italian rolling off his tongue with enviable ease.

"What's that?" Tsunayoshi repeated.

"The External Advisers of the Family."

Tsunayoshi huffed in exasperation. "What's _that_!?"

"Figure it out yourself, Dame-Tsuna," Reborn commanded ruthlessly. "We're not teaching you Italian and Mafia terms so you can slack off."

"Hiieee, how is this considered slacking off!?" Tsunayoshi flailed, almost sending his teacup off the edge of the table.

Masami saved the expensive tableware with a sigh and a, "please be careful, Sawada-san."

"Hieee! I'm so sorry, Masami-san!"

* * *

Masami flipped through the papers, the click-clack of her boots on the pebbled path muted. Transferring schools, especially from Italy to Japan, was more complicated than you would expect. The paperwork it generated was considerable.

Adding the shadiness of the Mafia and Hayato's possibly forged documents into the mess only made it worse.

The idea of _more_ paperwork was confining in a way she didn't want to look too deeply at.

"I seem to be coming here a lot," Masami said to empty air as she walked down the road to Hayato's apartment. Delivering all of these forms to him herself wasn't necessary in her opinion, especially since Hayato would most likely only end up yelling at her as usual, but the other options were worse.

Kyoya and Hayato still got along like oil and water, while any prefects she sent would probably be bombed to kingdom come. So here she was, playing messenger girl.

Masami shook her head, ignoring the cool touch of her kanzashi as they brushed against her cheeks with the movement. Walking up the stairs, she was lifting up a hand to knock on Room 37's door when she heard it: the faint, unmistakable sound of piano music.

_Oh._

She paused and, after a moment of thought, took a step to the right and turned around, leaning against the wall right next to the door. Flipping open her phone, she silently pressed the record function and settled down to listen.

Well-versed in classical music as she was, it took Masami only a few seconds to recognize Beethoven's _Sonata Pathétique._ It wasn't one of her personal favorites, but that didn't stop her from blowing out a quiet breath and closing her eyes. The slight burn informed her that she had been squinting at tiny print and reorganizing documents for far too long.

Quick, lilting notes danced in her awareness, followed by darker counterpoints, and it was oh so very easy to let herself forget about reality momentarily.

Masami hadn't played music since she was very young, under the guidance of her mother. She preferred dancing, but music was her passion in general, and it didn't take a professional to recognize that Hayato was very, very good at playing the piano. Yet, she didn't recall ever hearing him mention the talent.

But then, she did remember seeing the shadow of a piano hiding around the corner on her first visit here.

She didn't know how long she stood there in silence, listening as he shifted seamlessly from one movement to the next. When he finally finished the last measure, dramatic and cascading, the last notes lingering in the air, the silence that returned seemed a tad suffocating.

Masami smiled, heartfelt and grateful, and left without knocking.

She would get these papers to him tomorrow in class.

* * *

"Masa-chan! It's great that you could join us today!" Kyoko sighed blissfully, hands clasped together. "Isn't this place just wonderful?"

"It is," Masami agreed, peering around at the small bakery her female friends had dragged her to. It smelled of warm, decadent desserts, all chocolate and vanilla and sugar. "Miura-san, have you been here before?"

"Yup!" Haru grinned, enthusiasm lighting up her face. "Haru and Kyoko-chan met here actually!"

Kyoko laughed. "We did! The cream puffs are amazing, by the way. Why don't you try one, Masa-chan?"

"Oooh, and we can get a custard for Hana-chan!" Haru clapped her hands, sneaking a glance at the table near the windows, where the other girl was holding the fort, so to speak.

Masami considered the desserts through the glass. "I wouldn't mind a slice of cheesecake, I suppose."

"You won't regret it!" Kyoko promised cheerfully, leading the way to the counter. About to follow, Masami was deterred when Haru sidled up next to her, angled away from both Kyoko and Hana, a sheepish look appearing on her face.

"A-Ah...Masami-san...?" Haru fidgeted with her hands, shifting her weight from one foot to the next.

"Yes, Miura-san?"

"W-Well, you know about Tsuna-san and the whole"—she lowered her voice to a whisper, glancing furtively around—"Mafia thing, right?"

Masami wondered what Reborn was thinking. "That would be correct."

"Do you think that Haru...would be a good wife for Tsuna-san when he becomes a Mafia Boss?" Haru asked hesitantly, brown eyes wide and hopeful.

Masami _really_ wondered what Reborn was thinking. Later, when she was walking back home and an explosion went off in the far distance, she consoled herself with the fact that the cakes had, in fact, been heavenly.

* * *

There was something to be said for relaxation.

Masami threw open her window and closed her eyes for a long moment. It was after midnight, she was in a white yukata that served as a nightgown, her fans were by her bed, her hair was down, and there was no need to uphold any pretenses anymore.

Even with Okaa-san's training, even with Masami's composure and self-control, she had been pushing it recently. Ever since Reborn, the harbinger of anarchy, had descended upon Namimori, if she was being honest.

Masami sat on the ledge and took ten minutes to simply breathe and twenty minutes to meditate, easing her frazzled mind back into something resembling into order. Her bare legs dangled absently over her meticulously kept garden, and the wind pulled playfully at her hair.

It would be so very easy to follow that call, to move and run and fly. But Onii-san, and the Committee, and Tsunayoshi—

She blew out a breath and steeled herself. Masami opened the notebook in her lap and spun a pencil between her fingers. She recorded a methodical narrative of her day. She made notes about the state of her school, the mood of her brother, and the relative level of insanity in her town.

Then, Masami turned to the pages on the three people that a charitable person would call her problematic friends, her brother would call her unruly pets, and who she simply called hers.

She sighed, long and deep.

If a stranger could see the three systematic profiles she had down on paper, they would have probably been disturbed. It wasn't exactly common for middle school girls to methodically take apart their associates' psyches and write them down on paper like some bizarre psychological report.

Masami just staunchly believed in knowing the people around her, inside and out. Strengths could be boosted, weaknesses could be exploited, and behavior could be manipulated, if she so chose. If asked, she would blame Hibari Rika for hammering in assassin's paranoia into her since childhood.

Tsunayoshi was the first and the easiest to understand, as much as any human being could be.

Way back in fifth grade, Masami had watched him for less than three days before being able to grasp the majority of his virtues and flaws, as well as the holes she could patch up by pulling a string here and pulling a string there, if she'd wanted to expend that effort.

Granted, Tsunayoshi had changed since those days, just as everyone did, and so, she had made corrections to his profile, but as the saying went: some things changed, and some things stayed the same.

He was kind, open, and generous. He was timid, fearful, and meek. He attracted attention, both good and bad, as easy as breathing. He was often overwhelmed by unusual events in his life—which happened daily—and would rather stand up for his friends than stand up for himself.

Naturally, Hayato was far more complicated.

The bomber was intelligent and pragmatic. He was passionate and unreasonable, prone to bursts of temper and irritation. He was a scientific genius, but believed in aliens and the supernatural. He was enthusiastic and zealous, but also pessimistic and suspicious.

He pushed everyone but Tsunayoshi away, stubborn to a fault and just as belligerent. While he was expressive, Hayato wore his harder, more negative feelings on the outside, while concealing everything soft and vulnerable on the inside.

Masami could and had pegged down his obvious issues easily: smoking, overuse of dynamite, short temper, and lack of self-regard. That had been clear-cut enough. The more important dilemmas were less palpable and far more perplexing.

There was a need to prove his worth that translated into reckless, excessive actions. There was a desire to make a name for himself, carve out a niche in the world with force and fire. There was an obsessive devotion to Tsunayoshi, and an all-consuming goal to become the Right-Hand Man of the Vongola Decimo.

To make things worse, more recently, the matter of his sister, the vomiting, and the piano had come up. It was a good thing she liked puzzles, or she would have washed her hands clean of him a long time ago.

Takeshi was only slightly better.

He had only come along recently, so Masami didn't have much data on him, but if Tsunayoshi was an open book, and Hayato was layered like tree bark, then Takeshi's life was a masquerade. He hid behind his smiles and laughs like they were a veil, all the while honing the edges that made Reborn call him a 'natural born hitman'.

Which, interestingly enough, gave Masami a bit more insight because the Italian had also called _her_ the same thing. Reborn deflected as well, relying on absurd antics and casual turmoil to divert attention from how very dangerous he was at the heart of his nature, from the power and skill that made him the Greatest Hitman in the World.

Masami wondered if all natural born hitmen used one shining, distracting facet of their personality to cover up the rest, dark and cold and lethal.

Takeshi was friendly, easygoing, and cheerful. He was also focused, perceptive, and instinctive. Masami had watched the sessions between Takeshi and Hayato, witnessed how the former had improved in leaps and bounds while advising the latter on how to progress as well.

This boy knew who he was, knew what he wanted to do, knew how to do it, and knew how to play it all off with a laugh and a joke. That took talent and a certain internal balance most people lacked. Indeed, if it hadn't been for the rooftop incident, Masami would have written him off as more stabilized than even Tsunayoshi and called it a day.

But of course it wasn't that easy.

So. Another subordinate, another puzzle. Unlike Hayato, Takeshi wasn't reckless or over-the-top in everyday interactions, but from what he had said on the rooftop, he had suffered from a loss of equilibrium. He needed something to cling onto, just as Kyoya needed to fight and Masami needed to dance.

For the moment, however, he appeared to have foregone his maniacal dedication to baseball in favor of fixating on Tsunayoshi, which...now that she thought about it, was becoming rather common. She hadn't made up her mind as to whether or not she should interfere yet.

Masami speculated on the possibility that she had decided to take Tsunayoshi under her wing in fifth grade because he was a Sky. It was an uncomfortable notion on a bone-deep level. She made a note in the margins of his page for future reference.

Past Takeshi's page was one on herself and then one on her brother. Those she didn't bother looking at, because she already had them memorized right down to the last word. Then, there was Reborn, which...just...no.

Masami took a deep breath and closed her eyes, covering a yawn. "Verdict?" she muttered into the quiet of night. "We are all terribly unsettled by society's standards."

The open road beneath her feet whispered, and she wanted to answer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OpalescentGold: So, Takeshi joins their merry little band, Tsuna continues to suffer unusual and cruel punishment courtesy of Reborn, Hayato is in a perpetually bad mood around everyone but Tsuna, and Masami's composure is starting to show some cracks.
> 
> All the love to my beta, turtlehoffmann2251! Oh, and, I'm on [tumblr](https://opalescentgold.tumblr.com/), too! Comments make my day. ^_^
> 
> Chabudai: tables with short legs, used in conjunction with zabuton when eating as a family.
> 
> Fusuma: sliding panels that act as doors and walls.
> 
> Futon: thin bedding meant for sleeping
> 
> Geisha: a type of Japanese entertainer; culturally elite group who are focused on beauty and aesthetics
> 
> Genkan: main entrance to a house.
> 
> Ikebana: the art of flower arrangement.
> 
> Kabuto: a type of helmet traditionally a part of Japanese armor.
> 
> Maiko: trainee Geisha who typically undergo training from their mid teens to early twenties
> 
> Ranma: panels found above shoji or fusuma that are designed to let light into the room.
> 
> Seiza: formal way of sitting, kneeling with legs folded underneath.
> 
> Shamisen: three-stringed musical instrument.
> 
> Shodo: the art of calligraphy.
> 
> Tatami: mat floors traditionally made of rice straw.
> 
> Tessenjutsu: martial art of the war fan.
> 
> Uchiwa: flat-faced fans.
> 
> Zabuton: thin pillows used as cushions to sit on.
> 
> Zhuazhou: Chinese tradition on a child's first birthday; the parents place an assortment of items in front of their child and what the child chooses is said to determine their future inclinations and capabilities.


	6. Czárdás

_Czárdás: a traditional Hungarian folk dance characterized by a tempo that crests from very slow to quite fast._

* * *

When Masami first heard of the little boy with the afro running around the school in a cow suit, she didn't even hesitate before tracking Tsunayoshi down.

It seemed like all of the insanity in Namimori had something or another to do with him recently, which was awful, considering how small and stifling the town already was.

Well, it had more to do with Reborn, but then the hitman stuck to Tsunayoshi all the time, so it was practically the same thing.

_Honestly._

"Eeeh? Lambo?" Tsunayoshi smiled sheepishly, scratching his head. "He's this five-year-old hitman from the Bovino Famiglia that showed up at my house one day. Then, my mother took a liking to him, and…"

"He hasn't left," Masami concluded, leaning against the window of the empty classroom. She tapped her tessen against her arm lightly, breathing through the thrumming tension beneath her skin.

"Yeah. Sorry, he's a bit of a handful and he keeps on causing trouble, but I think he's a good kid." Tsunayoshi fidgeted in place, casting a hesitant glance at her as if waiting for judgment. As if that was in any way helpful.

"Is he a part of your family now?" she asked, glancing over her shoulder to take in the streams of students leaving school grounds. Takeshi was at baseball practice today, and Hayato was stocking up on his bombs.

"I...I guess?" he replied. "I mean, Mom really likes him, and Lambo's pretty annoying but he doesn't have anywhere else to go, and—"

"If he's a part of your family, Sawada-san, then take responsibility please," Masami chided, straightening up in preparation for returning home. "You know what the rules are here."

_Don't aggravate Hibari Kyoya._

Tsunayoshi winced, rubbing absently at a bruise on his right side. There had been a hole in his defense last Saturday and Kyoya hadn't hesitated to take advantage. "Okay, Masami-san, I'll try. I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Hai. Sayonara, Sawada-san."

"Sayonara, Masami-san."

* * *

Tetsuya had always admired many things about the Hibari siblings.

First had been their strength. As a weak, feeble elementary school student down on his knees in the dirt in front of three of the older kids, head bent to hide the tears running and hands scraped, Tetsuya had known the value of strength.

When Kyoya had come swooping in like some vengeful bird of prey, mouth bared in a bloodthirsty smile and tonfa flashes of light, Tetsuya had looked up and pledged himself to the boy without hesitation. He hadn't ever regretted that decision.

Masami was strong, too, but hers was a different sort of strength. To this day, Tetsuya had only seen Masami fight once or twice at most. Violence wasn't how Masami solved most of her problems.

She could. But she chose not to.

Rather, Masami possessed an insidious strength. She understood how to deflect and manipulate, and the value of a little bit of steel here and there. When faced with an authority figure, Masami smiled and talked and was home free in minutes.

Second was the autonomy between the siblings. There was something to be said for being allowed to go your own way, yet forever know that someone would be there to back you up if you needed it.

And third was their independence. They did whatever they wanted, whenever they wanted. True, Kyoya used his independence to take naps and Masami took duty cripplingly seriously, but that wasn't the point.

However, sometimes, all three could be endlessly frustrating.

"Masa-san." Tetsuya stood in the doorway and glanced at the clock hanging on the wall to the right. It was ticking past five-thirty, and still, Masami sat at her desk, head bent over yet another form on budget cut and damage expenses.

Really, all of this work should be going to the Principal, but neither Kyoya nor Masami trusted that man with much of anything.

"Greetings, Kusakabe-san." Masami didn't look at him, eyes flying over the form. She made a note before signing it with a well-practiced flourish and placing it off to the side, where a substantial stack had already accumulated. "What can I do for you?"

He hesitated, trying to feel his way through the minefield he was attempting to navigate. Tetsuya might have been with the Hibaris for longer than anyone else, his knowledge of the siblings unsurpassed—for an outsider, that was—but they had a habit of being unpredictable at the worst of times. "School let out hours ago."

"Hmm...yes, it did."

"All of the teachers have left." The last one, a particularly diligent history teacher, had left at five o'clock, to be exact.

Masami signed another paper and put it aside. "So they have." The stack to her left wasn't looking any smaller.

"Officially, no one is meant to be in the school building at the moment."

"No, I suppose not."

Tetsuya suppressed a sigh and concluded that the tactful and subtle method wasn't going to work. "Masa-san, please go home."

"The Principal isn't going to kick me out, Kusakabe-san," she said, with only the slightest undertone of dry amusement, giving every impression of completely missing his point.

He didn't fall for it. Masami was the Queen of Artifice, when she so chose. "The paperwork will still be here tomorrow."

"That _is_ the point." She tucked an errant strand of long black hair behind her ear and frowned slightly at the form in front of her.

"You've been staying after school for the past four days. This isn't healthy."

Masami breathed a sigh and raised her eyes at last to meet his gaze. "Thank you for your concern, but I am quite alright. Once I finish with this pile, I will return home and get some rest. Please do the same, Kusakabe-san."

And, apparently, the matter was closed. Tetsuya rubbed at his forehead and wished Kyoya would interfere. Sadly, both of them were stubborn as mules when their mind was made up.

* * *

Kyoya looked up with a raised eyebrow when Masami entered the room with a lidded box in one hand and wrapping paper in the other. She set both down on the table and retrieved some tape.

"Masami."

"Hai?"

"What are you doing?"

"Wrapping a gift."

"For?"

"Sawada-san."

Kyoya blinked as Masami began to carefully go through the gift wrapping process. "It's the omnivore's birthday?'

"In two days." She paused for a moment and shook her head. "Although, I believe Reborn-san's birthday is tomorrow. They're throwing a party for him."

He grunted, disdainful of herbivores and their crowding. While he knew his sister didn't often mind, even she had her limits. And those limits had been retreating more and more every day now. "Will you be going?"

"No," Masami denied serenely, cleanly ripping off a piece of tape. "I'll offer Reborn-san a gift, of course—it's only polite—but I see no reason to attend his birthday party."

"And the omnivore?" Kyoya didn't...mind the boy as much as he did the other herbivores, but there were few people he was willing to go to the extent of buying a gift for.

Sawada Tsunayoshi was not one of them, even if he was important to Masami.

"I don't enjoy parties," she murmured, finishing the wrapping neatly and starting to gather up the materials. "However, I will give Sawada-san his gift and wish him a happy birthday."

He nodded and went back to drinking his tea. Such effort from his little sister in regards to a small omnivore was more than sufficient.

Should Sawada Tsunayoshi not appreciate it, Kyoya would simply downgrade him back into a herbivore. And perhaps bite him to death a few more times.

* * *

"Greetings, Sawada-san."

Tsuna looked up, already smiling abashedly. Masami stepped into his hospital room lithely with a bow, holding a beautifully wrapped box in her hand. She looked very unimpressed.

"Good morning, Masami-san," he said, blushing. "I'm really sorry you had to go through all of this trouble just to see me…"

"There's no need to worry about it," she said, gliding forward. "I'm rather more concerned with how you got yourself injured the day before your birthday, Sawada-san."

Tsuna laughed, shifting uneasily in the uncomfortable sheets. "Weeeeell...that has a lot to do with Reborn actually. He shot me, and I ended up twisting myself into a pretzel. Somehow. It's okay; I'll be fine in a couple of days. "

"I don't believe I'm surprised," she informed him, placing his gift on his bedside table. "Nonetheless, happy birthday, Sawada-san. Congratulations. And get well soon."

"Yeah." Tsuna smiled, happy and content even though he was sore beyond what should have been physically possible. Even his mother had forgotten his birthday, so the fact that distant, aloof Masami had not only remembered but had also gotten him a gift and visited in person... "Yeah, thank you so much, Masami-san."

The back of her hand brushed against his in gentle acknowledgment before she saw herself out.

Tsuna smiled like a goof for the rest of the day. Reborn didn't even kick him for it, although he still had to finish his homework. He would keep this memory close to his heart. That, and the wilderness survival kit she saw fit to give him, considering how sadistic his home tutor was.

* * *

There was a Storm Arcobaleno standing on her doorstep.

Masami inwardly sighed and outwardly smiled. "Greetings, Fon-san," she said, sweeping a respectful bow. "Would you like to come in?"

"Very much so." Fon smiled placidly at her, oddly similar to her mother and herself, now that Masami was looking for it. "How have you and your brother been, Masami?"

"Well, I suppose," she said, preparing a pot of tea as was custom in this household. Hibaris tended to be traditionalists, if not perfectionists. Sometimes both. "What brings you to Namimori?"

 _It wouldn't happen to be a Sun Arcobaleno or a Vongola Decimo, would it?_ was what she really wanted to say, but that would hardly be polite. It would also show too many of her cards too soon.

"My apprentice has a job here," Fon replied, seating himself in seiza on one of the zabutons. "But she's young and I didn't want to leave her without supervision."

Considering that Fon was a part of the Chinese Triads, this 'job' sounded rather suspicious. And in the Mafia, 'young' tended to be children under ten. Such a mess.

"I see," Masami said, pouring the boiling hot water into an old teapot. "I wasn't aware that you had an apprentice, Fon-san."

He smiled calmly. "It's a new thing." And, most likely, not something he'd like to advertise, with his reputation and enemies. "She's very good, though, very talented. A wonderful apprentice."

"And her target?" If it was Tsunayoshi, all bets were off. Kyoya would agree on her with this; Tsunayoshi was a student of Namimori, after all. "Perhaps I might know of him or her."

Fon paused, gazing up at her with perceptive dark eyes. Masami refused to flinch away and merely gazed back sedately. There were few people she was willing to back down for.

Granduncle or not, the Storm Arcobaleno was not one of them. Power or strength had nothing to do with it.

Fon nodded in acquiescence after a moment, as if she had passed a test, and said, "Okanaya Tsunesaburo."

Masami considered the name for a long minute and shook her head, taking care not to let her tense shoulders relax or give off any other tell. "Forgive me, but I have no recollection of this man."

"There's no problem." He was unmoving even as a small Chinese monkey sprang from Fon's hood and moved onto the table to stare at her with round eyes. "This is Lichi, my partner. Would you happen to have some fruit or nuts for him?"

"Certainly." Masami smiled at Lichi, petting his head for a second before rising to her feet for the treats. He really was very cute, even if the Storm Arcobaleno brought with him was more trouble than he was worth.

Now...what to do about the child assassin running around Namimori?

"Fon-san, do you foresee any problems that may arise from this arrangement?" Masami questioned as she returned with a tray of clementines and hazelnut.

Lichi chattered excitedly until she placed the tray on the chabudai and he could pounce on it, stuffing his mouth at the speed of light so his cheeks bulged.

Fon looked thoughtful even as he frowned subtly at Lichi in warning. "I-Pin is very shy," he said at last. "And she has terrible vision, extremely nearsighted. Otherwise, I see no complications."

"...I see. Will you be staying here, Fon-san?" He _was_ family, even if the Hibari version of 'family' was rather different from the normal definition. Although, to tell the truth, the prospect of one more person she would have to keep an eye on was...aggravating.

She clamped down on the impulse to do something quite rash.

"No, I'll have my own accommodations." He smiled reassuringly. "Kyoya still dislikes me, does he not? I do not wish to strain the atmosphere in your lovely home."

Masami said nothing to that, which was a confirmation in and of itself.

* * *

Standing on the rooftop a day later, Masami watched, blank-faced, as Takeshi threw the Human Bomb ten feet up in the air and I-Pin promptly exploded.

Literally.

Shy. Nearsighted. Explosive.

Add those three factors together in a small little girl and a good chemistry student would get a highly volatile mixture.

"No complications, hmm?" Masami sighed and then darted forward to catch the falling child before she could get hurt. She almost wanted to fling everyone off the roof herself. "Sawada-san, Yamamoto-san, Gokudera-san, paperwork. After school. If you please."

"Again!? But it wasn't even my fault this time!"

"Hahaha, let's work hard and finish quickly, alright?"

"You maiko witch, how dare you make Juudaime do paperwork!?"

"Doing paperwork is good training for a mafia boss, Dame-Tsuna."

"I'm not going to become a mafia boss, Reborn! Hiiieee! That hurts! Stop it!"

* * *

"Excuse me?" Masami smiled politely at Kamisaka, who, even with the support of Ibu and Tsuga, was shaking, face pale as paper. It might have been because of the mildly homicidal glint in her eyes. "Would you please repeat that?"

"Uhhh...well…that is…" Kamisaka swallowed heavily and probably would have dithered on some more had Ibu not jabbed his elbow into his gut. Hard.

"There's been a report of two dozen men in black suits surrounding the Sawada household, Masami-san," Tsuga explained without batting an eyelid while Kamisaka bent over with a grunt. "Several of them appear to be armed."

It was common now, for the more dangerous pieces of information to go through Masami or Tetsuya before they found their way to Kyoya. Fewer people got injured that way.

Not that anyone would have been able to figure that at precisely this moment.

Masami folded her hands on the desk before her, lips pursing. Black suits. Sawada household. Why, it wasn't as if the Mafia didn't cater to stereotypes, she supposed. "Please don't interfere," she said semi-affably, spinning her chair around and rising to her feet. "I'll take care of this."

"Hai!" they replied in unison, snapping their hands up for a salute. She wondered briefly what exactly Tetsuya had been teaching them, before dismissing the thought.

In her humble opinion, it was simply a bit too early for the Mafia to intrude on Namimori's peace, Vongola Decimo or not.

* * *

There were, indeed, far too many black-suited men surrounding the Sawada household with harsh faces and sharp eyes and hidden guns.

It was a good thing Masami hadn't been in the mood to interact with Sawada Nana anyhow.

She wasn't exactly in the mood for breaking and entering today either—perhaps she would ask for a dance with her brother later—so she flipped open her cell phone and put in a call. While she waited, Masami closed her eyes and focused on centering herself, muffling any lingering vexation beneath her usual composure.

It took longer than normal.

" _Moshi moshi_ _?_ " Tsunayoshi answered after two rings. He sounded more curious and resigned than frightened, an encouraging sign if she had been looking for one.

"Sawada-san. Would you like to explain why there is a crowd of mafia men surrounding your home?"

" _Hiieee! Masami-san knows? How!?"_

Silly, silly Tsunayoshi. "Never mind that. Please remove yourself from your house and escort me through your pseudo-bodyguards. We have much to talk about, I believe."

Through the phone, Masami heard him swallow hard. Smart boy. _"I'll be down in a second."_

"I'll be waiting."

True to his word, not five minutes later, Tsunayoshi was timidly opening his door and looking around futilely. One of the mafia men even came up to him to ask if anything was wrong—he was so dreadfully obvious.

Masami resisted the urge to sigh and obligingly stepped into view. Not five seconds later, every head in the vicinity snapped around to stare at her, some threateningly, some curiously, and more than few hands dropped to hidden weapons.

How unsubtle. Her fingers flexed.

She ignored them all to smile at Tsunayoshi and bow. "Greetings, Sawada-san," Masami said, spreading her fan open to cover the bottom half of her face.

Tsunayoshi swallowed hard, clearly nervous, but, after a quick glance around at the friendly but watching Mafioso, smiled back, warm and kind and in-control, and bowed back. "Good afternoon, Masami-san. Please come in."

Her fan very nicely concealed her satisfied smile as Masami swept past the bodyguards and into the Sawada household. So those lessons in Mafia Etiquette and Boss Behavior after training sessions with Kyoya were useful after all. Good to know.

"If I may inquire as to what is happening, Sawada-san?" she murmured once they were out of earshot, turning to look at him at the bottom of the staircase.

"There's someone named Dino in my room," Tsunayoshi offered tentatively. "He was Reborn's last student, and he says he's here to meet me, 'cause, you know, I'm supposed to be the Vongola Decimo. He's the Boss of the Chiavarone Famiglia, and these are all of his men."

"Please don't sound so unsure when giving a report," Masami advised, gesturing with her fan for him to go up before her. The Mafia was essentially a series of dominance plays, and it wouldn't do for Tsunayoshi to look weak. "Did you give a good impression?"

He visibly restrained a wince. "I think? I mean, I didn't trip or anything...and when they started picking on me, I stood up for myself. He's pretty nice, actually, after I got over the whole people-in-suits-outside-and-inside-my-house thing."

Hmm, not bad progress, but...she raised an eyebrow, prompting Tsunayoshi to stop at the top of the stairs. "He's Mafia, Sawada-san," Masami reminded him. "Nice or not, he is, and has remained, a Boss of a Famiglia for a reason."

Tsunayoshi sighed, drooping. For all of Masami and Reborn's efforts, his heart remained the same, soft and kind and much too vulnerable. "I know," he said glumly. Reaching out to twist his doorknob, he stopped abruptly and cast a searching look at her. "I-Is there anything I should—" He gestured meaninglessly, but she understood.

"There's no need," Masami said but smiled nonetheless. It was always amusing and somewhat endearing when Tsunayoshi attempted to protect her, ignorant to how truly involved the Hibari family had been in the Underworld for longer than he had been alive. "Please, go ahead."

Tsunayoshi nodded, frown still worried, and opened his door to reveal yet more black-suited-men. They parted obligingly when they saw him, revealing the blond with tattoos sitting like a king on his throne in the middle of Tsunayoshi's bedroom, Reborn drinking tea by the table next to him.

"Hey, Tsuna, who's this?" Dino asked with a smile. It wasn't necessary. Even with the facade of charm, Masami could pick up on the cool calculation in those dark brown eyes. 'Nice', indeed. "Is she your girlfriend?"

Tsunayoshi spluttered incoherently, and Masami resisted the urge to sigh. "G-G-G-Girlfriend!?" he squeaked. "N-No, o-of course not! Masami-san's definitely not my girlfriend! Not at all!"

"Hmm, me doth think the boy protests too much," Dino teased, obviously enjoying Tsunayoshi's flustered state.

"You should be happy you have such a talented girlfriend, Dame-Tsuna," Reborn added, deadpan.

"Eeeeeh!? Not you, too, Reborn! You know it's like that between me and Masami-san! She's not my girlfriend! We're just friends! Good friends, but not like—like that—!" Tsunayoshi rambled on, face going more and more crimson by the second and arms waving like noodles.

As entertaining as the sight was, Masami cut in before Dino could find any more ammunition. "Sawada-san."

Tsunayoshi shut up. With the fan obscuring her face, Masami purposefully didn't give him any cues to work with, but he wasn't stupid, regardless of some of his test scores. "Ah, right, sorry," he said. "Dino-san, this is Hibari Masami, my classmate. Masami-san, this is Dino, the Tenth Boss of the Chiavarone Famiglia."

"Greetings." Masami bowed with a cordial smile, never taking her eyes off of Dino. "Welcome to Namimori."

"It's a pleasure to meet you," Dino said, smiling and dipping his head back. "Are you a part of Tsuna's famiglia?"

"Not yet," Reborn piped up. "We're working on it."

"Reborn, we've talked about this!" Tsunayoshi frowned, forehead creasing. "I'm not going to become a Mafia Boss! And stop dragging my friends into this!"

Dino burst out laughing. "Ahhh...I guess you are a little like what I used to be," he said, wiping the tears from his eyes.

"Eh?"

"In the beginning, I thought the mafia boss could go eat sh—"

Masami snapped her fan shut, the sound both loud and ominous.

Half a second later, Reborn leaped up from his seat and punched his former student in the face. "Don't be vulgar in front of ladies."

"Ow...!" Dino grimaced, rubbing at his cheek. "You haven't changed at all, Reborn!"

"Dino-san!" Tsunayoshi gaped, looking half-concerned and half-disapproving. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. It's okay, I'm used to this! Hahaha, and I guess you are, too..."

Masami sighed and opened her fan again. "Dino-san," she said when it looked like the man might start blabbering again, "I wish you the best of times in this town."

He blinked, startled. "I...thank you...?"

She smiled, sweet and sharp and rose to leave. At the door, Masami casually added over her shoulder, "Please remember that I'm counting on you to make sure Namimori remains safe and untouched."

She closed the door behind her. Somehow, she wasn't in the least surprised to hear reports of a gigantic turtle tearing up the Sawada household later.

* * *

"They're yakuza called the Momokyokai that have some influence over the area here," Reborn explained coolly. "Yakuza are Japanese Mafia. You middle school students won't stand a chance against them. Leave it to the police."

"Like hell I'd leave it to them!" Gokudera growled, running off at top speed like the hotheaded, if eager, amateur he remained.

"I'll leave the cops to you, little boy," Yamamoto called over his shoulder, not even a step behind.

Reborn looked after them with satisfaction before turning to Masami, who hadn't moved a centimeter. Her fan hid the bottom half of her face, but he didn't miss the faint amusement in her eyes, nor the spark of something feral behind her ladylike exterior. "You're not going to go after Tsuna?"

"That was Dino-san's whip."

A familiar laugh sounded behind them and a sneaker tapped down beside Reborn. "Okay, you got me." Dino grinned at Masami, eyes bright and curious as a bound Tsuna was dropped to the ground behind them. "What would you have done if you hadn't known that, though?"

"Nothing," Masami replied. "The yakuza know better than to touch Sawada-san."

Reborn observed how Tsuna winced, as if at some unpleasant memory, and speculated quietly to himself. He meant it when he said that Masami and Yamamoto were natural-born hitmen, even though he knew that his soft-hearted student didn't like to hear the truth, but the two of them were also different and he was well aware of it.

On one hand, Yamamoto had the sheer talent, the instincts, the reflexes, and the determination. He had managed to dodge Reborn's shots, Gokudera's bombs, and the Bovino's grenades all at once, while dragging Tsuna along with him, as practically a civilian.

Masami, on the other hand, had the mind, the attitude, and the perspective. Her thought processes were methodical, her actions were efficient, her reasoning was clear-cut, her morals were shady, and she schemed but didn't hesitate to use violence when necessary.

Granted, they had both been conditioned in some way before Reborn found them. Yamamoto was an athlete, had been training with his own special brand of focus for a good amount of time, while Masami's mother, Hibari Rika, was an assassin who had probably trained her daughter from birth.

That didn't mean Reborn didn't want to see what would happen when, as two full-grown Mafioso, Yamamoto and Masami were sent out on a mission together.

Not to say that Yamamoto didn't have a spectacularly ruthless mind when the situation called for it, or Masami didn't have the skills necessary to beat Tsuna, Gokudera, and Yamamoto into the ground simultaneously, but that wasn't where their true genius shined.

So. What had put Masami in conflict with the Yakuza of this area? Hibari was the protector of Namimori, and while Masami didn't tend to make statements she couldn't back up, she tended to play a more shadowy role.

"What are you doing, Dino-san!?" His idiot student—the current one—chose this time to wail in outrage, straining against the whip furiously as Dino knelt down to free him.

"Sorry, sorry, I just had to test your family," Dino reassured, recoiling his whip. "Don't worry, Momokyokai is just some imaginary yakuza group Reborn made up. They'll probably give up and are on their way home now."

Tsuna flailed, eyes wide as he jumped to their feet, looking sideways at Masami, who was now leaning against the wall, fanning herself with her tessen. "No, they aren't, Dino-san! The Momokyokai are definitely a very real, very dangerous, yakuza group!"

Oh? Reborn considered this little tidbit of information thoughtfully. He had thoroughly scouted out the yakuza group beforehand, as was only proper, and had found them a rather small, weak group, befitting a test for Tsuna's potential Guardians.

But why did his student, oblivious to the darker areas of life and too timid to wander beyond the safety of his home and school, know these things? And with such details as well? Masami made perfect sense, but Tsuna...

"Eeeh!? Reborn, is this true!?" Dino whirled on Reborn, which was a bit disappointing. Obviously, he hadn't given the man enough surprises during their time together.

"Yup."

"Hieee!" Tsuna shook his head repeatedly and then turned to Masami, eyes wide with panic. "Masami-san—!"

Masami only arched an eyebrow before turning on her heel. Tension hummed beneath her frame, her usually graceful movements a bit stilted. "Come along, Sawada-san."

"Right!" Tsuna scrambled after her, which, while not the best of scenarios for a mafia boss, was acceptable for the time being because Masami was still stronger than his idiot student. In most ways.

"Huh." Dino stared after the two of them, brow furrowed. "Didn't expect that to happen."

"What do you think of her?" Reborn asked, curious. Even if he _was_ Baka-Dino, there was a reason Dino was such a successful Boss, and it wasn't because he was a bad judge of person.

"Masami?" Dino began to walk after the kids, hands in his pockets. "Ehh...I don't think she likes me much."

"Understandable," Reborn chirped, jumping up to work on the wall beside him. "You're disturbing the peace of Namimori."

"Yeah, I guess." Dino laughed sheepishly. "She seems to boss Tsuna around though. Isn't it supposed to be the other way around?"

"Masami's been mentoring Dame-Tsuna for longer than I have," Reborn told him. "It's probably habit for both of them by now." The girl may have graciously backed off for Reborn, but some things just became natural after a while.

"Is she strong?"

"Definitely." Reborn hadn't actually seen her fight yet, not all-out, but he had seen Hibari fight, and with the clear respect between the siblings, it was easy to assume that Masami could hold her own against her brother.

And that wasn't even getting into the long shadow the Hibari family cast on the underworld.

Dino nodded, voice turning serious. "Is she Guardian material?"

"That remains to be seen." Reborn had his suspicions. "She doesn't entirely match any of the conventional standards for Flame."

"Sounds interesting, but that's not really the largest problem, is it? Will she follow Tsuna? Sometimes that kind of mentor-student bond doesn't break nicely."

Reborn tilted his fedora down. "That's up to Tsuna."

* * *

Tsuna and Masami arrived at the yakuza base right when the stronger, heavily-tattooed members showed up. The beaten up thugs littering the floor was clear evidence of Gokudera and Yamamoto's rough and tumble methods of interrogation, and their superiors didn't look too happy about that.

In contrast, Gokudera and Yamamoto, standing side by side and glaring at the newcomers, looked all but delighted when they spotted Tsuna.

"Juudaime, you're safe!" Gokudera exclaimed with a smile, casually holding dynamite between his fingers.

"You look all right," Yamamoto observed, clearly relieved, taking a step back to peer more closely at Tsuna.

"I'm glad you guys are safe, too," Tsuna said, beaming with a mixture of rueful pride and embarrassment. His friends really were crazy strong.

"Hey, look, more of them showed up," one of the yakuza commented.

Another snorted. "It doesn't matter. You lot are going to pay for what you did."

Masami chose that moment to step out from behind Tsuna, smiling like an angel. "Greetings." She bowed shallowly.

The yakuza collectively—excuse his language, he was probably spending way too much time with Gokudera—shit themselves.

"Oi..." Gokudera said slowly, glancing from the yakuza to Masami and then back, "what the hell did you do to them, maiko witch?"

Masami smiled. "Oh, we had a ball, nothing more."

"Hahaha, sounds like fun," Yamamoto said, grinning. "Hey, did you guys have fun?"

"Yes," Masami muttered, glancing at the yakuza with gleaming eyes, "did you have fun?"

If it was possible for the yakuza to go any paler, then it happened. Their knees were shaking, their weapons were on the floor, and they were sweating like mad despite the cool breeze. Tsuna almost felt sorry for them. "H-H-H-HAI!"

Needless to say, there wasn't anymore fighting that day. Tsuna, Yamamoto, and Gokudera were all but escorted out of the yakuza base, followed out with a bunch of breathless apologies and offers of food, water, snacks, whatever they wanted.

None of them were oblivious to the fact that all of the still-conscious yakuza were directing said words at Masami, who glided around like a messenger from the heavens, graciously assuaging their concerns.

"Hey, you guys are alright!" Dino called when they were on their way back home, waving a hand in the air. "Did everything go okay?"

Masami smiled at him, the sweet, pure smile she had given the yakuza. "Everything went fine."

Tsuna couldn't help but shudder.

* * *

"Onii-san? Are you alright?" Masami peered dubiously at her brother, who was languishing in bed, covers pulled up and face half-buried in his pillow. His hair was a mess, his eyes were glazed, and he was shivering slightly, a flush on his cheeks.

It was eleven o'clock at night, and the only real reason she was awake was because she had been finishing the last vestiges of her homework. A groan had led to her peeking her head inside his bedroom, which led to this particular standoff.

"'m fine," he muttered, voice husky, and then promptly disproved his statement by erupting into a furious coughing fit, body curling up even further beneath the blankets.

Masami sighed and didn't respond, rubbing at her cold bare arms. Instead, she walked downstairs and to the medicine cabinet, frowning at the abnormal weakness of her legs. From there, she took a thermometer, a bag of cough drops, a bottle of paracetamol, and made sure to drop by the kitchen for a glass of warm water.

This was all routine by now. Kyoya might be the strongest fighter in Namimori, with the exception of Reborn and Shamal, but he had always had a weak immune system. Truthfully, Masami was only slightly better.

"Onii-san," she said when she was back by his sickbed. He glared at her weakly but took the thermometer from her. While they waited for the instrument to work, she had him wash down two pills with water and suck on a cough drop.

_Beep. Beep. Beep._

"...38.5 degrees," Masami read. She frowned. "I believe it would be best if you went to the hospital this time."

Kyoya didn't respond with anything more than a petulant grumble, but that was expected. About the only time he didn't complain or threaten was when he was actually feeling miserable. Then, he seamlessly regressed to a five year old mentality until he felt like his normal self again.

 _Well_ , she thought fuzzily to herself, _better the hospital staff than me._

* * *

"Sawada-san's in the hospital?"

_"Yup. Dame-Tsuna and Baka-Dino messed up."_

"I see. Well then, I was simply calling to inform you that Onii-san is also in the hospital."

_"If we're lucky, maybe they'll meet."_

"Indeed."

_"Oh, would you mind telling Gokudera about this? I don't have his number."_

"I don't either."

 _"In that case"_ —and she could hear the smirk in his babyish voice— _"it's a good thing you know where he lives, right?"_

* * *

"This is becoming almost as familiar as Sawada-san's residence," Masami mumbled to herself as she waited outside Room 37's door once again. It didn't escape her notice that neither had been very familiar at all before Reborn had come around.

She supposed she was a very good, dependable, and willing leash for his unruly pseudo-students.

There was an audible fumble of locks before the door was thrown wide open. "What is it this time, maiko witch?" Hayato echoed her thoughts perfectly, leaning against the door frame with a scowl. "Did something happen? Is it Juudaime?"

Briefly, she mourned the previous silence. His loud voice hurt her head. "...Sawada-san's in the hospital."

He choked on air, eyes going dangerously wide. "Juudaime's in the hospital!?"

"Isn't that what I just said?" She managed a strained smile.

"No, no, what happened!? Who hurt Juudaime!? I'm going to blow them up! Is Juudaime all right!? Is he critical!? _Is he going to live!?_ " Hayato shrieked, getting more and more high-pitched and frantic with each question. His fingers curled, like he wanted to reach for his dynamite or position them into claws.

She hissed out a breath, resisting the urge to rub at her temples. It was ridiculously cold, despite the extra layers of clothing she had thrown on. "His leg was injured, but otherwise, Sawada-san is quite alright," Masami said, forcing her voice to come out evenly. "Please calm down."

"Don't tell me what to do, maiko witch!" He dashed back inside his apartment and then back out with keys and a wallet. "I need to go visit Juudaime to make sure he's okay! Wait, fuck, I need a gift—a hospital gift—and it has to be _amazing_ for Juudaime—"

"Roses are very nice," she injected mildly.

"Shut up!" He threw over his shoulder as he raced down the stairs. "What sort of roses should I get!? Red, no, black, orange, white, white! White symbolizes purity and innocence, which is perfect for Juudaime! I—why the fuck are you following me, maiko witch!?"

Masami merely blinked back at him, drooping slightly. "I would like to visit Sawada-san as well." _And check on Onii-san. Maybe obtain some antibiotics_.

"Fine, but don't get in my fucking way!" Hayato shouted, rushing out the main door. "Now, where's that convenience store—"

"To the right."

"I knew that!" He ran off at top speed, while she sighed. By the time Masami reached the convenience store they were talking about, Hayato was already at the counter with a stunning bouquet of white roses, glaring hell-bent at the poor cashier.

She blew out a breath and leaned against the wall of the store, hiding her face behind her fan and trying to catch her breath.

"You're still here?" Hayato muttered when he came out and saw her again. "Whatever. Which way's the hospital?" He seemed to have calmed down a little at least.

Masami pointed.

"I'M COMING, JUUDAIME!" And...off he went, leaving a trail of dust behind him.

Wincing, she took it back. He hadn't calmed down at all.

Trailing slowly after him, it took Masami around three point six seconds to realize that Hayato wasn't using the sidewalks or the crosswalks. In fact, if he continued along his trajectory, he would be running straight through the intersections, without a thought to the uncaring cars.

Her brain shorted out momentarily.

Hayato yelped as he was unceremoniously yanked onto the sidewalk by his arm and whirled around right as a car flashed by where he had been standing seconds before. "Oi, what the fuck—!" He cut himself off, face going blank.

"Gokudera-san," she said slowly, quietly, struggling through the nausea, _"we have had this conversation before."_

It was _trying_ for her, it didn't make _sense_ , and she would really appreciate it if he made up his mind between being smart and being stupid sometime soon, preferably after the world stopped spinning unreasonably around her.

Masami mentally counted to ten, trying to focus through the buzzing in her ears. Her fingers, ice-cold, curled into fists, and her cheeks were burning. She was hanging onto composure through pure obstinacy, and she knew it.

He hissed in a sharp breath, lips pressing together. Green eyes flashed. "Juudaime's waiting for me, and this has nothing to do with you," he snapped. "I didn't ask for you to do whatever the hell is it that you're doing, alright!? Just leave me al—Hey!"

The wave of dizziness hadn't been anticipated. Her traitorous legs buckled, and he caught her purely on instinct. She was, Masami recognized blatantly, shivering. Strange. Now that she wasn't standing anymore, it seemed hard to get back up again.

 _Oh_.

"What the fuck!?" A cool hand pressed against her forehead, and he cursed again, shifting his hold so it was a bit more comfortable. "You're burning up; why the hell are you out and about? And you say I'm being stupid. Where's that crazy brother of yours?"

It took her a good minute to process the question. It took her another to seize upon the ill-hidden concern in his voice and wonder. Maybe, just maybe... "In the hospital," she muttered, blinking her way back into coherency. "He had a fever last night."

He scoffed. "Yeah, and obviously, you caught whatever bug he had, too. Come on, get up. I'm not carrying your ass all the way to the hospital."

She hated being sick. Disliked hospitals. Abhorred the claustrophobic feeling when she was trapped by white walls and chemical silence. "Thank you, but that's not going to be necessary."

Masami forced herself to find her footing again, a cold sweat breaking out along her nape. He had to steady her again when she wavered, vision flickering in and out at the corners.

Hayato's look was blatantly exasperated. Incredulous. "What, you're just going to walk all the way back to your isolated mansion at the edges of Namimori? That's pushing it even for you, maiko witch."

"Isn't Sawada-san waiting for you?" she asked dryly, pulling away.

"Don't change the subject," he groused but was evidently torn anyway.

Masami's response was to hail a taxi. While scarce in Namimori, few taxi drivers would deny her if she requested service. "Your flowers are going to be wasted, Gokudera-san."

He glared. "I know what you're doing." Shifting his weight uneasily, Hayato waited until the taxi pulled up before stomping away, grumbling about stupid witches underneath his breath.

"Please stay out of traffic," she called after him, words slurring slightly, and got back a snarled "yeah, yeah." As the taxi sped away, she noted how he carefully stayed on the sidewalks, even as he bulldozed his way to the hospital.

It was agreement. However thoughtless it was, it was agreement. At the moment, all she needed was to gain a foothold.

That was what her mother had taught her. And that was exactly what she had done.

Masami smiled through the haze of heaviness and closed her eyes, leaning her head back against the cold headrest. Perfect. This little bout of illness had gotten her somewhere after all.

If guilt and responsibility were what she needed to get Hayato to listen to common sense and keep himself from taking stupid risks, then she'd abuse that for all that it was worth.

* * *

New Years was spent quietly among the Hibari siblings. Tradition or not, it wasn't like them to make a big fuss, so they didn't. That didn't mean it wasn't a nice reprieve, anyway. No herbivores, no idiot shenanigans, no paperwork, no prefects to train and direct—she was very grateful.

"Happy New Years, Onii-san," Masami greeted her brother in the morning, smiling gently. She wore an elaborate red kimono with splashes of white baby's breath, her matching hair ornaments brushing lightly against her collarbone.

"Hn. Happy New Years," Kyoya responded, dressed in a black kimono with a blue sash. He didn't smile, exactly, but the corners of his lips tilted up minutely, and that was enough for her.

After they were done with their preparations, Masami sat on one side of the kotatsu, and Kyoya sat on the other. They hadn't bothered with the usual decorations, but they had a hot pot and osechi on the table.

On special holidays and their birthdays were about the only times their parents ever called voluntarily, disregarding Masami's recent inquiries. Not that either of the two really _needed_ evidence that their parents still remembered them by this point, but it was nice regardless.

Okaa-san called first and said her well-wishes to Kyoya, which was returned briskly, and, after confirming that Onii-san was just as verbose as ever, Okaa-san asked to speak to Masami.

"Greetings, Okaa-san," Masami said into the phone, moving out into the living room so as to give Kyoya some space. "Happy New Years."

_"Happy New Years. Masami, are you and your brother still involved with the new Vongola Heir?"_

"Hai."

_"Hmm. Very well then. I will be returning to Namimori this summer."_

Masami paused, honestly startled. Her mother hadn't been home since...two years ago? Three? Three. "If I may ask, why?"

_"The Vongola aren't the most powerful famiglia in Italy for nothing, Masami. If you're to get involved with them, you will need more advanced training. Your father has been educating you on Flames, I hope?"_

"He has."

_"Good. Inform your brother. I'll see you again in a few months time. Don't let yourself become rusty."_

"Goodbye, Okaa-san."

_Click._

Masami stared at the beeping phone for a moment before humming thoughtfully and returning it to its proper place. Interesting. She would have to shift her plans around a bit.

Joining Kyoya at the kotatsu again, she picked up her chopsticks."Okaa-san will be coming to Namimori this summer," she informed him.

He narrowed his eyes at her. While not completely unwelcome, one of their parents returning would mean a minor loss of independence, which would be frustrating for both of them but likely more so for him. She was more concerned with her freedom. "Why?"

"She wishes to train us."

Kyoya frowned, disgruntled. "It's not necessary."

"Vongola," she reminded. "Mafia."

"Herbivores. I'll just bite them all to death." He tore savagely at his piece of beef.

Masami considered the best way to respond to that. "Reborn-san is Mafia."

His scowl deepened. "He's an Arcobaleno." Just like their grand-uncle.

"Perhaps," she said, "but it's better to be cautious than to be prey, Onii-san."

* * *

Later that day, Masami lounged on a zabuton and frowned. "Can a Sky harmonize with an unwilling Element?"

_"It's possible. Highly ill-advised, but possible, especially with a very strong Sky and a very weak Element."_

"What would happen?"

_"Most likely? In the best case scenario, the Element in question would eventually grow content under the Sky and stop fighting the Harmonization. In the worst case scenario, the Element would tear itself into pieces, reject their Flames, and quite possibly destabilize the Sky itself."_

"And some people do it anyway?"

_"Skies are accepting people, but never forget, while that's ninety percent truth for all of the Skies I have met, it is also ten percent stereotype. Many Skies are also the Bosses of crime syndicates. They knew how to blackmail, threaten, and murder. Don't be tricked into thinking that just because someone is a Sky, they are harmless or kind."_

"Stereotypes," she muttered, closing her eyes and leaning back. "If that's the case, then why buy into the connection between Flames and personality?"

_"There's certainly some truth to it. No one has yet understood the connection between the two, but you'll find that there are similarities between people of the same Flame more often than not."_

"...which Flame do you believe Onii-san has?"

_"You're the one who has been living alone with him since kindergarten."_

"It's possible he's a Cloud."

_"Have you talked to him about this yet?"_

"No. However, I have educated him on the different characteristics each Flames has."

_"Think on it some more and ask your mother when she returns if you require more clarification."_

"Hai, Otou-san. Happy New Years."

_"Happy New Years. Goodbye, Masami."_

"Goodbye."

* * *

A few days after that, Masami noticed another pre-teen following Tsunayoshi, this one bearing a long scarf and a ridiculous book. Fuuta de la Stella, the Ranking Prince, she was told after she asked Reborn. Having no inclination to get ranked, Masami avoided the boy.

She didn't bother to go to school on Valentine's Day either, knowing it would only aggravate her further. That didn't stop the poor prefect who was chosen to complete the momentous task of opening her locker from being buried in chocolates, of course, but it was the thought that counted, right?

Right.

Honestly, after the sixth confession under the shadow of the largest tree on school grounds, Masami had come to the sad realization that while Onii-san's fan club and the rest of the school were too frightened to approach Kyoya, the same didn't apply to her.

Oh, plenty of people were still wary of her, especially now that she was a prefect, but it was never enough in the face of youthful love. And she very much did not need that at the moment.

Sometimes, Masami wanted to go back to the nice old elementary school days. She usually ended up regretting those thoughts after a single patrol past Namimori Elementary.

* * *

One cold morning, Masami woke up to find the world outside her window coated in snow. The town was silent, as it should be on the true winter days, and small flurries continued to fall from the sky in a whisper of white. Icicles hung from the trees, and the white powder covering the ground was immaculate, undisturbed.

She breathed out a small sigh of appreciation.

Unlike Kyoya, who trained for an hour in the morning every day without fail, Masami wasn't a morning person. She would get up without complaint, and with tea, she was fine for the day, but if given the choice, she would rather sleep for a full eight hours.

Any less and without caffeine in her system and Masami was a terror. A well-mannered, exquisitely serene, supremely sweet-looking terror, but a terror nonetheless. Tsunayoshi and the prefects could attest to that, especially during the past few weeks, not that she'd let them notice a large difference.

But today seemed to be an exception.

Masami slipped out of bed and dressed in a pure white kimono. The tatami mats were cool beneath her bare feet, but she paid that no mind. Wool trailing behind her, she made her way to the kitchen, where she prepared a pot of hot green tea.

Tugging on some white socks, she made her way outside.

An hour later, Kyoya found her sitting out on the engawa, ankles crossed and hands cupping a steaming cup of tea. Splayed out before them, the garden was a vision of soft, crisp winter beauty. Their breaths were visible in the frigid air, and beyond the dancing snowflakes, all was still.

Onii-san didn't say a word but walked away on silent feet after stopping to take in the scene for a few seconds. The heavy weight of a kakefuton on her shoulders not long after that wasn't as much of a surprise as it should have been.

Masami smiled, soft and gentle as the snow itself.

"Breakfast?"

"Still warm in the oven."

"You're not coming with me on patrols today." It was more of a statement than a question.

She listened to the sound of peace and contentment, so rare nowadays, and agreed. "No, I'm not."

Later, Kyoya would come home with a smirk on his face and inform her that he'd had a great deal of fun aiming snowballs at unsuspecting people and watching them stammer when they whirled around, ready to scream bloody murder, only to recognize the Skylark.

Later, Masami would laugh and shake her head at her brother's antics. Few people knew it, but Kyoya actively enjoyed his reputation of doom. She would ask if anything interested had happened, and he would tell her a story of a humongous turtle and silly herbivores and a flailing omnivore chasing after a strange turbo-chameleon.

But that was later. And for now, Masami was happy to watch the snow fall.

(She wondered what other sights the world had to offer. She wondered if she would ever see them. She wondered if she could ever reach out and grab the opportunities dancing before her.)

* * *

Masami was going through her katas when the door to the training room was nudged open.

"Greetings," she said idly without stopping or looking up. "What can I do for you, Reborn-san?"

"Ciaossu, Masami. Would you like to go on a trip to the zoo with Hibari?"

She straightened up and snapped her fans shut, eyeing Reborn thoughtfully. Her brother liked animals, but... "Onii-san won't go unless everyone else has been chased out," she informed him. By force or not.

"That's okay," Reborn said, unperturbed, and two tickets suddenly became one. "Why don't you go anyway?"

She arched an eyebrow delicately. "Sawada-san wouldn't happen to be visiting today, would he?"

He stared at her without blinking and smiled. "Dame-Tsuna could use a suitable pet, don't you think?"

Masami smiled back peacefully and took the ticket.

She didn't want to go. She didn't want to partake in whatever chaos was certain to happen. She had five stacks of paperwork on her desk, she had prefects to train, she didn't want to have to clean up whatever mess would be happening this time,

Masami inhaled deeply and smiled, sweet and easy.

She finished the paperwork in record time. She passed out training schedules to the prefects, she informed Tetsuya what needed to be done, and she went to the zoo after promising Kyoya that she would take pictures of all the small animals and send it to him later.

Not in so many words, of course, but that was the deal nevertheless.

Twenty minutes in, while she was observing the gray wolves, she caught sight of Tsunayoshi. Kyoko happened to be with him, which explained a great deal. Reborn did appear to relish in messing around with his student's love life...or whatever remained of it.

"Let me fight a kangaroo!" roared an exuberant voice nearby.

Masami took one look at Ryohei and turned on her heel. She glided away and didn't look back. He had destroyed a wall of her home just three days ago. There was no need to indulge the herbivore and actually fight with him today.

The hedgehogs were cute. Nearby, a bull was preoccupied with a boy dressed in a cow suit. Retrieving her camera from her bag, Masami took a dozen photos of the hedgehogs from multiple angles and wandered off.

Halfway inside the bird house, a hand suddenly clasped down on her shoulder.

Only Takeshi's instincts kept that hand from being severed at the wrist. "Woah!" he gasped, jumping back. "Hey, it's okay, it's only me, Masami!"

Masami blinked slowly and snapped her fan closed again. "Yamamoto-san." Since when did she lose control of her instincts like that? Randomly attacking people just because they startled her was more Kyoya's quirk than hers.

Mistakes like this weren't acceptable.

"My sincere apologies." Turning around fully, she bowed, brow slightly wrinkled. She didn't even know what was _wrong_ with her, which meant that she didn't know _herself_ like she should, which—her fingers tightened on her gunsen. "My reaction was unwarranted."

Takeshi being Takeshi, he only laughed and waved her off. "It's fine, it's fine. It's my fault for surprising you. I won't do it again. The birds here are pretty cool, huh?"

"Yes," Masami concurred, letting the subject shift because it would be useless to start psychoanalyzing herself in the middle of the very crowded zoo. "Would you like to take a picture?"

"Sure!" He snapped a few photos of a falcon and an owl with a grin before handing the camera back to her. "Did the little guy ask you to come for Tsuna, too?"

"He did." She began to drift out of the exhibit, Takeshi keeping pace with her. "I believe Sawada-san is having a fine time with Sasagawa-san at the moment."

"Oh, Senpai? I thought I saw him by the bear exhibit."

"...no, the other Sasagawa-san."

"That's kinda confusing, you know. Is there a reason you're so formal all the time?"

Masami shrugged, catching sight of a sign that proclaimed that lions were to the right and tigers were to the left. There were, she noticed, far more people gathered around the lions.

"It was what I was taught," she said vaguely, taking the left path. The decorum was really more out of obligation than any sense of genuine respect anyway, at least for most individuals.

"Huh. Is that where Hibari got his herbivore thing from, too?" He folded her arms behind his head.

"You could look at it that way," she replied. "Do you prefer lions or tigers?" Maybe she should have asked him the question before choosing for them? But crowding, _more_ crowding—enough said.

"Ahhh...I like both," Takeshi said, smiling easily. "I hear tigers tend to be more temperamental though."

She laughed. "It isn't illogical. Lions are pride animals. Tigers are solitary."

"And you like tigers better?" There was no judgment in his voice, only a calm curiosity.

"I think they're more interesting," Masami corrected, leaning against the fence and peering past the wire grid. Five white tigers lazed around while the sixth, the largest male, prowled around its cage, dark eyes searching. It spotted them soon enough, and its lips pulled back in the slightest of snarls.

"Don't think it like us very much," Takeshi noted.

"No." She didn't bother trying to take a picture of the majestic animal. It would be a degradation. "Where would you like to go now?"

He didn't ask why they were leaving so soon after their arrival. "The clouded leopards are over there. Wanna go take a look?"

As they left, Masami glanced back over her shoulder precisely once. The tiger glared back at her, coiled power and simmering rage. She almost wanted to reach out and touch that ferocious wildness.

"Hey! Aren't you going to apologize for bumping into me!?" A loud, belligerent voice reached their ears two minutes of comfortable conversation later. "Hey, kid! Don't ignore me! Say something!"

"Think there's trouble?" Takeshi asked.

She scanned the area and detected silver hair within seconds. "I think there's Gokudera-san," she murmured. He really did like picking fights, didn't he? She was almost more resigned than upset. "He shouldn't cause a commotion in such a public area."

"With his fireworks, right? They're pretty good." Takeshi grinned and cupped his hands around his mouth. "Hey, Gokudera!"

Hayato twitched, a mere second away from lighting the dynamite stick he held in his hand with the cigarette in his mouth. "Tch. It's the baseball idiot and the maiko witch. Why couldn't it be Juudaime?"

Laughing, Takeshi ambled forward and flung an arm around Hayato. "Relax, Gokudera. Tsuna's here, too. I'm sure he's having fun."

"Don't fucking touch me, baseball idiot!" Hayato snapped. "I'll blow you up!"

"Oi, chill with the fireworks. Masami said we shouldn't cause trouble here."

"Pardon me," Masami said very calmly to the thugs that had been yelling at Hayato.

"I don't have to listen to you! And I definitely don't have to listen to her!"

"Gokudera-san happens to be—"

"Okay, okay, calm down a little, alright?"

"—an acquaintance of mine, so I would appreciate it if—"

"Hell no! Get the fuck off of me, you idiot!"

"—you would cease antagonizing him." She smiled like an angel.

"O-O-O-Of course!" the thug stammered out, eyes so wide she could see his veins. He backed away steadily, pulling his lackeys with him. "S-Sorry for the trouble!" Aaand off he went, leaving behind a trail of dust.

There was a brief period of silence before Masami turned around to see Hayato and Takeshi frozen in the act of trying to restrain each other, staring at her.

She opened her fan to hide the bottom half of her face, knowing full well that her smile was more lethal than polite by this point. "Is something wrong, Gokudera-san, Yamamoto-san?"

"Yeah. Witch, what the fuck?" Hayato took a step back from Takeshi, throwing in a glare that said _stay away_ , before continuing to squint at Masami. "First it was those damn Momokyokai, and now this!? Why is every shady dude around scared stiff of you?"

"I kinda want to know, too," Takeshi added, rubbing the back of his head in a chagrined manner. Despite that, his eyes were clear and dark and sharp.

Masami gestured with a twist of her wrist for them to follow her as she strolled down the rest of the path. She wanted to _move_. "Onii-san can be a scary individual," she said mildly.

"Yeah, but those guys weren't scared of him, they were scared of you," Hayato argued, increasing the length of his strides to catch up to her, gesturing wildly with his hands.

Takeshi ambled along on her other side, head tilted a bit to the side. "Those Momokyokai guys seemed to know you personally," he commented. "Did you have an argument with them or something?"

"I told you, we had a ball." Masami raised her camera and captured three shots of the dozing leopards. "Where do these cats normally live?"

"They're pretty widespread," Hayato said, matter-of-fact. "The _neofelis nebulosa_ species range from countries of the Himalayas to Malaysia. They thrive in heavily forested areas, which is why they're pretty rare nowadays."

"Wow!" Takeshi grinned, clearly impressed. "You really know a lot about these guys, huh!?"

"Yeah, well, it's nothing special," Hayato muttered, crossing his arms. There was a hint of red on his cheeks though, and he glanced to the side rather than look at Takeshi when he said, "You would know this, too, if you ever bothered using your brain."

"I would be impressed, too," Masami drawled, leaning against the small bronze plate nearby, "but that information is all right here."

"Oh, shut up, maiko witch!" Hayato spat out, glaring death daggers at her while Takeshi burst out laughing.

" _Zoo district report_ ," the broadcast system suddenly blasted, " _Some lions have escaped due to unexpected attacks destroying the cages. The current situation is very dangerous. All visitors, please proceed towards the exit for your own safety."_

Approximately two seconds later, a very, very familiar shriek rose into the air. "HIIIEEEE!"

"Juudaime!" Hayato shouted, already sprinting towards the sound.

"Tsuna!" Takeshi called at the exact same time, running off as well.

Masami stared after them for a moment, conflicted. Should she...? Her fingernails dug into her palms. But—But no, she was sure Hayato and Takeshi and Tsuna were more than enough to take care of a few lions, especially with Reborn in the mix.

Shaking her head, she meandered away to take pictures of monkeys instead of getting involved in that problem.

It probably said something about the direction her life had been going in recently when she wasn't even surprised that Fon joined her five minutes later, Lichi chattering away to its distant relatives.

If he noticed that she was a tad less accommodating than usual, he didn't say a word.

* * *

Tsuna was pretty much resigned to having to fight Hibari for anything and everything he wanted. It was practically expected by now, even if the favor in question at the moment were the sakura trees Hibari had apparently claimed for himself.

Sometimes, he wondered why Hibari was so unreasonable when Masami was so reasonable. Then, he remembered the grievous training he'd received at the younger sister's hands—somehow, _somehow_ , Reborn's was _worse_ —and he hastily revised his thoughts.

The Hibari siblings were both impossible in their own different ways. And Tsuna was the lucky guy who had to deal with both of them.

Yay...(not)...

Again. _Why was this his life!?_

"Whoever has their knee touch the ground loses," Hibari ordained, sounding more bored and disdainful than interested.

"Let's do it, Juudaime!" Gokudera insisted. "Actually, let _me_ do it!"

"Those are the rules. I want to see the sakura trees, too." Yamamoto shrugged, smiling.

Tsuna groaned and gave Reborn the stink-eye before turning back to the prefect. "Hibari-san, we just fought _yesterday_ ," he pointed out, thoroughly exasperated. He still had the colorful bruises from that, too.

Hibari only smirked. "Take it or leave it, small animal."

"Reborn! We're going to get wrecked!" Tsuna wailed despite knowing all his protests would be disregarded.

"Don't worry, that's why I called over a doctor," Reborn said calmly, sitting on a lower tree branch.

"That guy only helps women!"

"Heey...aren't you feisty," Shamal grouched, sidling up to Hibari like the creepy pervert he sorta was. "Don't you have a sister? She was, hmm, _feisty_ , too."

The clearing went dead-silent.

Tsuna barely noticed the absolutely _livid_ look on Hibari's face over the blood roaring in his ears.

It wasn't—

He knew that Masami was a very pretty girl. He was aware that some boys in his class had a crush on her. He had overheard some of his classmates debating over whether Masami was prettier than Kyoko, and vice versa.

Tsuna knew all that.

It was just, to him, this was _Masami_. Masami, who was his first friend and his kinda mentor. Masami, who was secretive on a good day and utterly unreadable on a bad day. Masami, who was subtly kind and gently mean and beautifully strong, and—

Tsuna had never thought of Masami like _that_.

And, of course, Masami could protect herself. Tsuna could barely stand a chance against her in their spars even now, and ever since that frigid winter day when Masami had torn apart an entire yakuza base by herself, Tsuna had understood that she was harder, colder, than he was, probably more so than he could ever be.

Tsuna didn't need to protect Masami from anything. Masami had always protected _him_ , from bullies and yakuza and his own dame-ness.

It had been more than three years since he had first sat down on that rooftop and dared to eat lunch with the most terrifying girl in school. Since then, Tsuna had learned that Masami liked music and history, was traditional, pleasant, and oh-so-graceful, disliked mangoes and uncertainty, and maybe that was pretty much it.

Masami wasn't Hibari, who was more untouchable than the clouds, but she was elusive and faraway and wild, too. Just in such a style that you never noticed until you tried to describe her and came up short.

In the short time that they had been with him, Tsuna could freely say that he knew Gokudera and Yamamoto much better than he knew Masami. He could even acknowledge that they were so much more open, so much more... _his_ than she was, had ever been, but— _but—_

"Dr. Shamal." Tsuna took a step forward, distantly aware that everyone was staring at him, including Hibari, who hadn't had the chance to eviscerate Shamal yet, but not really comprehending it in the strange heat that enveloped him.

"Please," he said, quiet but absolute, "don't _ever_ talk about Masami-san like that."

If he had been focusing on his tutor, he would have seen Reborn's lips tilt up in a small, satisfied smile as he surveyed the golden orange color of his students' eyes. But he wasn't, so Tsuna only saw how Shamal turned to look at him, something keen and assessing surfacing beneath his drunken exterior.

 _Assassin_ , his mind reminded him. _Trident Shamal, he's not_ just _some womanizing pervert._

"Maa, so young and already lecturing," Shamal sighed, the pout his lips twisted into disturbing on a soul-deep level. "You aren't a man yet, so you wouldn't understand. One day, the unquenchable flame of desire will begin burning in you as well!"

"Jeez, just shut up already, won't you, you pervert-doctor!?" Gokudera barked, teeth bared and dynamite in his hands. "Don't bother Juudaime with your stupid fantasies! Besides! The maiko witch is _underage_ , you damn pedophile!"

"Pssh. You need to lighten up, Hayato." Shamal paused and took in Tsuna's mulish expression before sighing again and raising his hands. "Alright, alriiight. I'll leave the girl alone, happy?"

"Yes." Tsuna took a deep breath, feeling like he was waking up from a dream now that he had the man's agreement, slowly ascending from the heart of that fire to face the fuzzy, terrifying world. "Eh...?"

"Well, I'm not," Hibari said and slammed his tonfa into Shamal's face. Hard. _Hard_.

"NOEHNFUGYAH!" Shamal shrieked as he was tossed backward, through several trees, and crashed into the trunk of a particularly strong tree, sliding down with a broken groan.

Tsuna winced. He could tell from experience that Hibari hadn't been holding back at all. Shamal would be lucky if he didn't end up with a concussion.

"Idiot," Gokudera muttered. "He deserved it even more usual this time."

Hibari focused acutely on Tsuna and smirked in a decidedly more alarming way than usual. "You're sharpening your fangs, omnivore," he announced. "I expect a decent fight today."

Tsuna whimpered, all previously found bravo fading away under the Skylark's bloodthirstiness.

* * *

"Onii-san?"

Kyoya grunted as he walked the final steps to the bench and forced himself not to collapse on it. He still had his pride, cheap tricks or not. He sat down with only a fraction of his usual grace but with every movement under control.

That done, he turned to look at his concerned sister.

The sakura kanzashi in Masami's hair dangled. A simple white sash tied her equally white yukata together around her waist, contrasting the embroidered pink flowers and green vines. Her ankles were crossed, her fan was open, and her eyes were calculating.

There was a barely noticeable tension tainting her normally serene aura, but he didn't say a word. Yet.

Any other herbivore in their territory would have probably said something idiotic along the lines of 'are you okay?' or 'do you need help?'. Masami only looked him over slowly, nodded at whatever she saw, and said, "What happened?"

Kyoya leaned back and, in the precise, blunt language their mother had hammered into them when giving a report, outlined the past ten minutes. His eyes were closed, but he had no doubt that even if they had been open, his sister's face would have told him nothing.

That, too, was something Rika had taught, although Masami had been slipping a bit recently.

When he was done, Kyoya was more than happy to simply doze in the silence that fell, knowing Masami was doing some more convoluted thinking with the pieces he had given her. He didn't even try to keep up with her thought patterns; it would only give him a headache.

"My," she said at last, "Sawada-san is growing into his own, isn't he?"

He hummed noncommittally. "He's not a carnivore. Not truly."

"No. Not yet." And Masami smiled like she was going to slit someone's throat and dance over their grave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OpalescentGold: Nothing particularly exciting here, but things are building up. Everyone has their breaking point, after all. Tsuna's advancing, slowly, like a snail, but he's getting there, and Reborn's scheming. As always.
> 
> All the thanks to my wonderful beta! Please leave a comment and feel free to follow me on [tumblr](https://opalescentgold.tumblr.com/)!~
> 
> Chabudai: tables with short legs.
> 
> Gunsen: lightweight but strong folding fans.
> 
> Kakefuton: a thick comforter.
> 
> Kanzashi: hair ornaments used in traditional Japanese hairstyles.
> 
> Kimono: Japanese traditional robes worn so that the hem falls to the ankle, with attached collars and long, wide sleeves.
> 
> Kotatsu: a low, wooden table covered by a futon with a heat source underneath.
> 
> Maiko: trainee Geisha who typically undergo training from their mid teens to early twenties.
> 
> Osechi: traditional Japanese New Year food.
> 
> Seiza: formal way of sitting, kneeling with legs folded underneath.
> 
> Tatami: mat floors traditionally made of rice straw.
> 
> Tessen: heavy folding fans with outer spokes made of heavy plates of iron.
> 
> Yukata: a casual summer kimono.
> 
> Zabuton: thin pillows used as cushions to sit on.


	7. Salsa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OpalescentGold: I do not own Katekyo Hitman Reborn.

_Salsa: a passionate Puerto Rican ballroom dance with six steps over eight counts of music._

* * *

It was like an itch building beneath her skin, untouchable and intolerable.

By no means was Masami a stranger to the feeling. She'd been aware of it on some level since she was a child, waning and waxing with the call of the winds and the freedom in the roads. Even as a young child, she'd known she couldn't assuage the itch, at first because she was weak and then because of her ever stable brother.

It hadn't been comfortable, had never been comfortable, staying in such a small, (mostly) peaceful town like Namimori, but Rika hadn't taught her daughter self-control for nothing. Masami had gritted her teeth and stomped down on her longing and went about her affairs.

This recent bout of restlessness was worse than the others that had come before it though. It was cutting into her concentration, her patience, and her daily life, and that...was dangerous, both to her and the people around her. Masami was nearly just as lethal as her brother, most people simply never realized it.

She needed that restraint, or people would get hurt, plain and simple.

Masami was nothing if not mindful of herself, and this couldn't be allowed to continue. Meditation wasn't helping. If anything, meditation made things worse. Every time she came out of a meditative trance, she was more restless and fidgety than before.

 _Something_ had to give.

* * *

It all came to a head one day, but for the life of her, Masami could never quite decide what had finally pushed her over the edge.

Perhaps it was the incident during morning patrols after exactly two hours of sleep, the dynamite and arguments during lunch, and then the three piles of paperwork on her desk that awaited her after school, along with the mess that almost blew up the baseball grounds.

Perhaps it was Reborn announcing yet another 'traditional' Vongola event that would be sure to wreck havoc on her school, town, and peace in three days; perhaps it was just the walls closing around her until it was much too difficult to breathe.

Masami bid goodbye to Tetsuya and sent off a text message to Kyoya as she left the school. Expression blankly polite, she smiled back at the civilians who greeted her and walked to the edge of Namimori and then beyond, into the wild forests that surrounded the town.

Calmly, she found a well-worn trail and placed her bag on a nearby bench. Her every move was perfectly controlled and graceful, and then she turned to the inviting dirt road in front of her and closed her eyes briefly. She flexed her fingers and listened to her heartbeat and felt the troubled heat pounding in her veins.

The mask of reserve shattered into a million pieces, and she _ran_.

It was exhilarating. It was a bone-deep relief. It was wonderful.

Masami ran and ran and ran. The trees blurred past her, and the wind caught at her hair. The ground welcomed her every step, and, and she laughed freely as she let loose for the first time in months.

 _This_ was why she adored dancing, but if dancing was the closest thing she could get to freedom indoors, then running was the closest thing she could get to freedom outdoors, without outright departing.

And so, she let that desire to explore and move and be untameable by anyone and anything flow through her body and propel her forward.

Masami ran four entire rounds on the trail before calming down enough to slide to the ground and lean against a trunk and _think_.

What was she _doing_? She knew _better_.

It took pathetic little effort to identify exactly why and how she had let herself devolve to this state of uncontrollable panic and anxiety. This was why Otou-san had always stressed delegating, which she absolutely had not done.

Since her entry to Namimori Middle, she'd taken up nearly the entirety of her brother's paperwork load, she'd been training his men and taking care of three teenage boys, and that wasn't even counting the antics that Reborn pulled left and right.

And in doing so, though to be honest, none of it was anything she could hand off easily, she'd been spreading herself much too thin, stressing herself to the point where everything became a trigger, and alone time, free time, became a myth.

But, oh, it was galling, because Masami wanted to believe she could handle it. Stopping now was admitting defeat, admitting she couldn't juggle all of them at once, admitting she was inadequate, and she hated, hated, hated that thought, but then—

She wasn't like Kyoya. She had known that for a long, long time. Kyoya had always been her anchor, had always been what was keeping her in Namimori before Tsunayoshi had even entered the equation, but he, he would _stay_ and she would _leave,_ and that had been inevitable from the get-go.

The sun had long since set, leaving the moon to rise and the stars to shine. The temperature was steadily dropping, though it was warm enough that she was fine in her school uniform. Masami rose to her feet and paced. This couldn't go on. She would have a mental breakdown.

If this didn't count as one already.

She thought and thought. She made plans. She discarded plans. She returned home as the sun peeked over the horizon. She took a shower, changed into clean clothes, and made breakfast. When Kyoya came down, neither of them said anything about last night.

Instead, Masami said, "You're not graduating, Onii-san?"

"No." He snorted. "The sheep need their shepherd."

She smiled, more centered than she had been for a while now. "I see. Next year then?"

Kyoya hummed noncommittally. "Maybe."

And that was that.

* * *

On the first day of her second year of middle school, Masami observed Naito Longchamp from a window for precisely five minutes before making the executive decision to never, ever deal with that boy personally. It would only aggravate her.

And if Tsunayoshi somehow worked up the nerve to claim she was in his fledgling famiglia, then she would simply have to teach him the error of his ways.

She had no desire to get involved in that problem. So she didn't. It was oddly freeing, and the small smile that tilted her lips lacked the stress it had boasted for months.

* * *

The first term passed in a blur of maddening discipline and self-denial.

In fact, the only positive thing during those weeks Masami had to look forward to was Okaa-san's return during the summer holiday.

It was a unanimous agreement between Masami and Kyoya to spar more than normal before their mother arrived. In addition, she reviewed the basics of her childhood lessons in the spare time she carved out for herself while he tidied up the house. If nothing else, Hibari Rika was a true carnivore who could scare even her children.

The rest of her time was spent on trying to change her own self-destructive patterns.

A week into the new school year, Masami informed Kyoya that she was giving a good amount of their paperwork back to him. He wasn't happy, of course, but observed the dark circles under her eyes, not yet covered by make-up, and agreed reluctantly.

She would still be doing the organization and filing; he would just have to actually look over and sign the papers. Somehow, she ended up awake at ten o'clock at night doing paperwork anyway. It was better than the daily four hours of sleep she'd been getting before, so she shrugged and accepted it.

Eventually, Masami drew up a training program for the prefects and assigned three of the more responsible ones the task of implanting it. She had planned to just stop by every week or so while training was in session to see how it was going, but she found herself there three out of five school days.

Tetsuya was giving her exasperated looks. Masami ignored him kindly.

The boys were the most frustrating.

Tsunayoshi continued to improve steadily, fussing the whole way. Hayato continued to be irrational about his own health, although frequent guilt trips were waylaying his usual self-destructive instincts a bit. Takeshi continued to be oblivious to the truth of the 'mafia game', although his instincts in combat only continued to improve.

They never really noticed her dilemma directly. Masami was naturally reticent and distant, after all, and it was easy to twist that perception to her advantage. No one noticed if she was a bit more aloof than normal, especially now that Tsunayoshi was distracted by all of the shenanigans going on around him.

Evidence of her continued poise or not, she couldn't deny that the coil in her chest only wound tighter and tighter every time Tsunayoshi or Hayato or Takeshi came to her with this catastrophe or another and expected her to fix everything.

She also couldn't deny that she always did. It was vexing; she knew the problem, knew she should stop, and yet—she couldn't quite bring herself to burn her bridges.

Kyoya certainly noticed if the dances he forced her into when the herbivores weren't around were any clue. It wasn't like the siblings to be warm and fuzzy with each other, and he wasn't, but Masami was grateful nevertheless because even if the dancing didn't completely help, it did take off the edge.

If, after one particularly exacting spar, she'd collapsed against the wall and buried her face in her palms, well, it was her brother, so it had been okay, okay for her to crack just a little. He hadn't said a word, only slid down next to her, so close their shoulders brushed, and stayed until she had pulled herself together again.

Still, by the time Reborn had graciously taken Tsunayoshi, Hayato, and Takeshi off of her hands to a trip to Mafia Land and Rika had arrived in Namimori, beneath her cool, placid facade, Masami was straining her control to the breaking point.

* * *

Rika made true on her promises. She led them to the training room as soon as she was back and proceeded to beat them into the ground. And again. All completely effortless, no matter if they attacked separately or together.

There was nothing like being defeated soundly to make you reevaluate your life.

"Well," she sighed after Kyoya and Masami were on their knees in the middle of the room, weapons long since disarmed, panting for breath, for the seventh time. "I see I have my work cut out for me."

Training under their mother was just as strenuous as Masami remembered it to be. Only, this time around, in addition to reintroducing them to the floor, she also taught them stealth, infiltration, pickpocketing, and surveillance.

If they ever ended up on the streets or wandered into an underground criminal syndicate by accident, they would do just fine for themselves. Perhaps that was the point.

Personally, Masami just thought that Tsunayoshi and the prefects of the Disciplinary Committee had absolutely no room to complain about _her_ methods.

Masami picked up on most of the skills her mother taught them with an almost disturbing ease, but that wasn't what bothered her the most about Rika's visit.

It was that Rika had taken one look at her and seen straight through her bullshit.

* * *

"Onii-san is fine with this arrangement. Why?" Masami asked one late afternoon while they were both out in the garden. Kyoya was off doing patrols. Even their mother couldn't stop him, not that she'd tried.

Rika huffed, sitting primly on the engawa. "You aren't your brother."

"He's a Cloud, too," Masami murmured, staring up at the sky. It looked like a painting. "He handles his responsibilities fine. Why?"

"Masami, both of you may be Clouds, but that means little. Your nature is that of a free-floating feather, while Kyoya is more akin to an unmovable rock. People will inevitably weigh you down, but a dozen men can't crush a boulder with their weight. His sense of freedom is different from yours."

Masami clipped a twig and kept quiet.

Rika sighed. "I know you love your brother but accept that you two are not one and the same. He is his own person and you are yours. Do not put what Kyoya wants above what you need."

"I want to stay," she whispered.

_Not in Namimori, but with Onii-san. With Tetsuya and Tsunayoshi. And maybe with Hayato and Takeshi, too._

But at the same time, she wanted nothing more than to leave.

"He'll be here when you come back," Okaa-san said pragmatically.

"If I leave, the others—"

"You are no one's _dog_ ; there is no need to go, wagging your tail, when someone calls." Rika's tone was scathing, having dragged the whole story out of her daughter on her first day back. "I taught you better than this, Masami. You are no one's therapist or babysitter, so stop acting like it."

Masami twitched, feeling as if she was four years old again and being reprimanded for greeting her brother improperly. "They need _someone_ looking after them, or they'll self-destruct, Okaa-san."

"Maybe so, but unless you've signed a contract stating that you'll be their babysitter for the rest of their lives, you _can't_ stop them. You may try, but you can't change someone unless they want to change, Masami. It's a waste of effort. Now, I'll ask you now, do you consider these boys enemies?"

Tsunayoshi, an enemy? It was laughable. "No, Okaa-san."

Rika raised her eyebrows. "Are you planning to become one of the Vongola Heir's Guardians?"

"Not particularly, no."

"Are you planning to become one of those boys' wife?"

Maybe when the sky turned red and Tsunayoshi could fly. "No."

"Do any of them serve you directly?"

That sounded like a nightmare. "No."

"Then there's no reason to put any more effort into them than you already have," Rika said. "It's their life. There's no reason for you to ruin yours to fix theirs. Side projects stay just that: off to the side. You've been letting this—them—control your actions, and that's an inexcusable philosophy."

Masami didn't reply, but she didn't need to. The sting of chagrin was an unfamiliar one. She knew there was a reason their parents rarely came back home.

Rika covered a yawn and left to train Kyoya, leaving her to her thoughts. But before she did, she threw over her shoulder, "Besides. Do they really need you? Or are you purposefully clinging to the preconception that you're _needed_?"

* * *

Kyoya knew something had changed in Masami. Had been changing, if he was honest. He'd known that she'd needed something, some kind of push for that last step, but heart-to-heart talks had never been his forte, even if it was his baby sister, so it was just as well that their mother had returned home.

He didn't know what they had talked about, but he could see Masami finding her balance again. She'd been doing better these past few weeks before Rika had come back, compared to the previous year of stress and work, but it had been a stop-gap measure at best, not a pace meant for endurance.

Now...now, she was plotting.

Not that she brooded visibly, but that was Masami down to the core. She hid everything behind a calm smile and a polite demeanor, so it was nearly always up in the air as to what her true feelings were.

It was a good thing Kyoya knew Masami better than anyone else in the world, because she didn't try and discuss her schemes with him.

He gave her space easily enough. He didn't press.

But, two weeks after their mother's return, Kyoya had finally had enough.

"Have you made up your mind yet?" he inquired over breakfast.

Her responding glance was blank. "Regarding?"

Kyoya snorted. Who did she think she was fooling? "Yourself."

The clank of her teacup as it settled on the chabudai was loud. "No," she said softly, "but I will when Sawada-san returns."

He nodded and returned to his breakfast.

* * *

Tsunayoshi returned soon enough, two days before Rika's flight. He came tripping into Masami's office, babbling exasperatedly about mafia babies and an invasion, and she let him rant, noting down names and other pieces of useful information.

The Rain Arcobaleno was Colonello. He had a falcon partner, while the Cloud Arcobaleno rode around on a gigantic octopus and was called Skull. Colonello was a merciless Spartan trainer, and Skull was a bit dramatic but not really scary.

She looked at the boy she had known for such a long time, the boy she had nudged and pushed and trained until he had shaped up and became something _more_ than that small, powerless victim huddled away in a corner of the playground.

She listened as he rambled about how Hayato and Takeshi had been so terribly enthusiastic about stopping the attack, and Tsunayoshi certainly didn't know how they'd done it, but with a lot of dynamite, some bullets, and a baseball bat, they'd _succeeded_.

She hadn't said anything about his bout of clumsiness, hadn't reprimanded him when he blubbered and waved his hands and spoke in run-on sentences. Her smile had never faded, and maybe that was particularly out-of-character for her, because Tsunayoshi abruptly stopped and stared hard.

"Masami-san?" he said softly, tentatively. "Are you alright? I—Did something happen?"

Her gaze dropped to her desk, bare for the first time in what seemed like an eternity although she knew it had only been a few months, and then out the window, where students mingled and laughed, and beyond them, where the open road stretched and called.

And she knew that her mother was right. He would be just fine without her.

"Come back tomorrow, Sawada-san," Masami requested. "With your friends, please. I'll tell you then."

* * *

Tetsuya lived and breathed loyalty. He had made up his mind a long time ago to follow Hibari Kyoya, and when Hibari Masami had come as part of the package, he had given her his loyalty as well.

There were a lot of things Tetsuya knew about the Hibari siblings that few others knew.

He knew that Kyoya had a soft spot for animals, for he frequently gathered up injured birds and squirrels and nursed them back to health. He knew that Masami was nowhere near as unruffled as she made herself appear, because when she was upset, it was his job to make her hot chocolate.

He knew, but his loyalty had never wavered.

Tetsuya was older than Kyoya, older than Masami, and that meant while he depended on their strength, he also took care of them in ways that he doubted they would allow anyone else.

He kept Kyoya from doing something he might regret later on, ran interference between the Skylark and the rest of Namimori Middle. He pushed Masami to eat and drink when she was caught up with paperwork, reprimanded the boys when she needed a break.

So, when Masami appeared in his doorway at the break of dawn, face serious, tone intent, but more relaxed than he'd seen for far too long, Tetsuya didn't hesitate to agree. That year before she had arrived in Namimori Middle had been tedious, but not overly so.

They would be fine.

* * *

Masami spent the earlier part of the afternoon taking a nap with Kyoya in the gardens. Summer was running its course, but the breeze was nice and it was cool enough in the shade. He folded up his jacket for a pillow, and she slept on his stomach, and it was almost like they were children again.

It had always been them, just them.

Yes, in their childhoods, their parents had been there, but even then, it had been Kyoya and Masami alone at home more often than not. Then, Satoshi and Rika had left, and it had truly been just them against the world.

Kyoya had never once told Masami he loved her, and vice versa. But he protected her when he could, and she looked after him when she could, and neither of them put much stock in words anyways. A hundred small actions were clear as day and much more believable.

"This won't be the first time," she murmured into the quiet.

He didn't open his eyes. "Hn."

"I don't know when I'll be back."

"No, you don't."

"I'm leaving you with the herbivores."

" _Masami_."

She laughed and smiled. "Take care of yourself, Onii-san."

"Keep your fangs sharp while you're gone," he replied softly.

* * *

Tsuna honestly wasn't sure what was going on as he fidgeted nervously on the couch in Masami's office. Gokudera was sitting to his right, playing around with a cigarette but not lighting it, while Yamamoto was to his left, smiling easily.

Masami slipped inside the room without a word and closed the door behind her. She took a seat across from them and simply waited, calm and patient as always. She was smiling, though, gentle and warm, and there was a mesmerizing clarity to her eyes.

Tsuna relaxed, even though he wasn't sure why. If he closed his eyes, he could nearly see the elementary school's rooftop spreading around them, and the most powerful girl he knew, so graceful and confident, was telling him about the history of France.

Intuitively, he knew that she had _decided_ , even though he didn't know what her decision was, even though he hadn't known that there was a decision at all.

He had acknowledged to himself that he would probably never know her as well as he would like, but that didn't mean he hadn't noticed the way his friend had been just a little _off_ lately. He hadn't been able to pin it down exactly, but maybe, maybe even she had gotten a bit lost this time.

Tsuna didn't know. It was Masami, after all. Just like Reborn was inexplicable and terrible and unpredictable, Masami kept things close to her chest and was lovely like silk until you went too far and touched the steel.

"Masami-san?" he questioned lowly, at ease now but still curious.

"Don't keep Juudaime waiting!" Gokudera snapped, but it was less hostile than normal. "What do you want, maiko witch?"

She tilted her head to the side, kanzashi swaying. "Sawada-san, you still have my number, yes?"

Tsuna blinked, rapidly getting out his phone with clumsy fingers. "Hai! Uh, why?"

"Share it with Gokudera-san and Yamamoto-san, please."

"Ahhh... okay."

"What's up, Masami?" Yamamoto questioned, typing the number into his own phone. "This is kinda a surprise."

She closed her eyes briefly. "I'm going to be taking leave for an unspecified amount of time."

Tsuna yelped, almost dropping his phone in his surprise. _"What!?"_

"You heard me." Masami's gaze was sympathetic, knowing but unyielding.

"Bu-But—" Tsuna shook his head sharply, trying to get his thoughts in order, but it was impossible, because this was _Masami_. She was the one person he had never expected to just _leave_ , not when she had always, always been _there_. "I don't—"

The words wouldn't come. What was he even trying to do? Convince her to stay? Since when had Tsuna ever changed Masami's mind? She did as she pleased, and he couldn't bear the thought that she would lose that freedom, because he knew, like he knew Gokudera was loyal and Yamamoto loved baseball, that it was important to her.

"So what?" Gokudera's voice came out cutting and almost cold, and Tsuna...Tsuna hadn't seen that look on his friend's face since the day Gokudera had tried to kill him. "You're just going to ditch? Can't take the heat? Well, fine, we don't want you any—"

" _Gokudera-kun_ ," Tsuna said, aghast, seconds before Yamamoto cut in, "Hey, hey, let's all calm down, alright?"

Gokudera fell silent, but he flicked open his lighter and lit his cigarette. Tsuna glanced anxiously between Gokudera and Masami, but the latter hadn't even batted an eyelash.

"Masami." Yamamoto looked at her, easy but firm. "Why are you leaving?"

"I can't stay," Masami replied evenly, and it was hard to tell whether she was affected by Gokudera's words or not.

Tsuna frowned, confused and upset and wanting more than anything to make this—everything—right again. "Why not?" Because if someone was making her do this, then he would make them pay. He was still weaker than she was. Less experienced, less mature, less capable, but Tsuna would make whoever it was _pay._

Masami inspected him for a long heartbeat. "Because that's what I need," she said at last.

It was a short answer. It should have been an insufficient answer, but those words resonated with something inside Tsuna, and looking at that familiar, beloved face, he knew she hadn't lied.

So, Tsuna blew out a breath and said, "Okay."

"Juudaime?" Gokudera questioned incredulously.

At the exact same time, Yamamoto asked, "Tsuna?"

"It's okay," Tsuna said, and he glanced around at his friends, making sure they knew he wasn't lying either. "You'll come back if we call, right?"

Because she always had. Whether it had been yakuza or hitmen or corpses, even when she was tired and had better things to do, Masami had never turned Tsuna away. It was one of the few certainties in his life, and he didn't want to lose that.

And he wouldn't.

Masami smiled, and it was just like before, before Reborn and the Mafia and even Gokudera and Yamamoto. Just Sawada Tsunayoshi and Hibari Masami sitting on that rooftop. "Of course."

There was a beat and then Yamamoto laughed and Gokudera huffed but put out his cigarette, and Tsuna was content.

* * *

It was surprisingly easy to leave the only place she had ever considered home, even if it was a constricting home.

Masami packed her bags the night before, slept fitfully, woke up at dawn, and walked out, sparing a minute or two to inform Kyoko and Hana she was going on vacation. (They were planning on leaving for the beach themselves.)

Rika led her to the train station, and thirty minutes later, they were on a plane and thousands of meters in the air.

Looking down through the window—of course they were in first class, Rika had _standards_ —she watched the world, so small, so beautiful, fly past her, and she couldn't bring herself to regret a thing with the earth stretching out beneath her and possibilities at her fingertips.

* * *

Osaka was as stunning as she had always expected. Rika was here for a job, naturally, but she took the time to settle her daughter in a hotel and give her instructions before absconding for reconnaissance. Then, it was just Masami and wherever her feet wanted to take her.

And she _adored_ that.

Masami fell asleep with that euphoria in mind and woke up with bright eyes. It was uncomfortable living in a hotel, and she found their bathroom positively disgraceful, but it was worth it to be able to step out of the front doors and explore at well.

Namimori was a town and Osaka was a city, and there had never been such a time that Masami was ever more aware of the difference. Skyscrapers were everywhere, reaching greedily for the faraway sky. People streamed here and there in crowds that never failed to sweep her away, and she made no move to dig her feet in.

That first day, she did nothing but follow the wind and the sun, wandering the streets freely. That was how Masami discovered the joys of okonomiyaki, and to the stall owner's delight, ordered several more. Takoyaki was interesting, too, just not as delicious as okonomiyaki.

Briefly, she lamented that Kyoya wasn't here with her, but then a flashing sign alerted her to the presence of a nearby shopping district, and she got distracted.

They had such _gorgeous_ kimonos.

When Masami finally stumbled back to the hotel, smiling widely, it was late, and she couldn't help but whirl around and take a picture of the lights, from her left and right, from above her and _above_ her, golden and magenta and sapphire.

She would make sure to get a picture of the skyline before she left, she vowed to herself and then collapsed in bed after rushing through her nighttime routine.

Masami ignored the eyebrow Rika raised at her in amusement. At least their room didn't smell of blood yet. Just before she went to sleep, she sent the picture to Kyoya and Tsunayoshi.

She was asleep before they could respond.

* * *

_"So many herbivores. Bite them all to death."_

"I'm on vacation, Onii-san."

_"That looks beautiful. I'm happy you're having fun, Masami-san."_

"Thank you, Sawada-san. How are you doing?"

* * *

Masami spent her second to ninth day doing all of the cliche tourist gigs. She visited Osaka Castle, paid her respects at the Sumiyoshi Grand Shrine, and watched a performance at the National Bunraku Theater. She shopped in the Minami and admired the organisms in the Osaka Aquarium.

She even indulged herself and bought postcards for everyone.

On the tenth day, Rika swept into the room with a vengeance and slammed three books in front of Masami. She only blinked at her mother, taking a peek at the clock. It was five minutes to eight o'clock at night.

Arching an eyebrow, Masami questioned, "Okaa-san?"

"We're going to Spain in four days," Rika informed her with a serene smile. "I expect you to be ready." And then she was gone, leaving Masami with a book on culture, a book on basic language, and a book on proper etiquette.

Masami stared at the stack for a good five minutes before snapping out of her trance with a sigh. Well, Tetsuya and Kyoya might be covering for her for the last few weeks of school before summer break, but Rika had been explicit: she was to keep up with her schoolwork. And really, this was merely an extension of that condition.

Besides.

She _liked_ to learn about different cultures. And it would be embarrassing if she couldn't speak of word of their language when she reached Spain.

Smiling wryly, Masami reached out and cracked open the first book.

Spanish, as it turned out, was somewhat similar to Italian, which she'd already been exposed to. Among their group, Masami had been far from the most talented with languages—that had been Hayato, the-genius-who-wouldn't-do-anything-with-his-talents—but she hadn't been the least talented, either; that had been Yamamoto.

By the time she managed to make it through all three books, she had a headache and the sun was sinking down the horizon.

Masami sighed, rubbing at her temple with her fingers. Well, she figured, at least she could finally take the picture of the skyline at night like she wanted.

* * *

_"Why did you send me such a useless card?"_

"You're very welcome, Onii-san. That's tradition and history on there."

_"Thank you very much for the beautiful postcard, Masa-san."_

"You've very welcome, Kusakabe-san. I trust that everything is fine back at home?"

_"Thanks for the postcard, Masami-san! Ah, what should I do with it?"_

"You're very welcome, Sawada-san. If you'd like, you're welcome to use it for target practice."

_"Didn't I tell you to stop bothering me, maiko witch!?"_

"You're very welcome, Gokudera-san. I'll endeavor to send more appropriate gifts next time."

_"Haha, thanks for the gift! My dad wanted to send back sushi, but I told him that it would spoil before reaching you."_

"You're very welcome, Yamamoto-san. That's quite alright, no harm done. I appreciate the thought."

* * *

On the final night of Osaka, Rika came back with a cold smile and watchful eyes and blood-soaked clothes. Masami was prepared to turn her head away, to pretend she hadn't seen a thing, but her mother inquired, "Do you know how to remove blood from clothes?"

Masami paused. She knew how to remove blood _stains_ but Rika's dress was positively dripping blood all over the floor. At least it wasn't carpet. She shook her head. "No, Okaa-san."

Rika nodded and stripped off her dress without hesitation. Throwing the dress into the sink, she glided off to take a shower. While Rika washed off the blood, Masami eyed the red droplets on the floor and wondered if she should take care of it now.

Probably not, she decided. Okaa-san would want to make a lesson out of this.

Masami was correct. Stepping fluidly out of the shower in a black yukata, Rika gestured for Masami to come closer and then began to instruct her on the proper removal of questionable fluids from porous and nonporous surfaces.

There was, Masami thought that night before slipping off into a dreamless sleep, nothing like an assassin teaching you how to hide evidence of murder.

* * *

_"The herbivores continue to crowd and be useless. Also, the paperwork is intolerable."_

"My condolences, Onii-san. Perhaps you can dance with some of the yakuza? They're a bit unruly nowadays."

_"More languages, huh? Sounds tough. Gokudera still shouts at me for speaking Italian wrong, hahaha."_

"Have you made progress? I will admit, the many accents of Spanish are difficult."

* * *

Immediately after they had resettled themselves in a hotel—just as uncomfortable and just as worthwhile as the last one—Rika turned around and scanned her daughter critically. "Your attire needs to change. It's more than conspicuous."

Masami considered the casual silver yukata she wore, the kanzashi that dangled from her hair, and how very Japanese her entire outfit was. This area didn't lack in tourists, but... "Hai. Would you do me the favor of acquiring more suitable clothes, Okaa-san?"

Rika nodded sharply and left. Half an hour later, she handed Masami a white blouse and a long blue skirt. Moving behind her, she deftly plucked out the kanzashi and simply let her black waist-length hair fall down her back freely.

The girl in the bathroom mirror was strangely unfamiliar.

Masami suppressed the automatic flinch, feeling strangely guilty. It wasn't as if she was betraying Japanese culture, blending in was important, so there was no reason for her to feel this way. And yet...

"You'll adjust," Rika assured her, meeting her eyes in the glass. "The formal greeting here is ' _hola,_ _¿cómo está?'._ Don't bow when outside of Japan, curtsy; I've taught you how. I will give you one week to become at ease with this culture. And then you shall join me on my mission."

Masami froze. "If I may inquire why, Okaa-san?"

"You have many career choices ahead of you," Rika murmured levelly, drifting away. "However, knowing how to properly assassinate someone never hurts. You have the talent for it, in any case."

Masami wondered what it said about her and her mother that a compliment like _that_ made her smile faintly. But then, that was the Hibari family for you.

* * *

Madrid was lovely.

Albeit, it would have been lovelier if Masami could understand more than one in ten words, but cultural immersion was also a lovely thing. The people here were all used to tourists and friendly enough not to laugh at her fumbling attempts at Spanish. Some of them even kindly corrected her pronunciation, which she accepted graciously.

More startling was the cultural disparity, because people here were so very loud and open and intimate with each other, and reading about it could never match up to the reality.

* * *

_"Your herbivores are too much trouble. Why do you put up with them?"_

"Apologies, Onii-san. I did warn you."

* * *

In the Mercado de San Miguel, there was food she had never tried, food she had never known existed, and she didn't hesitate to buy a small sample when something caught her eye. Churros were a new love that she refused to give up, and flans were simply a pleasure.

* * *

" _Masami-san, someone tried to murder me today! I think it was a hit, that's what it's called, right!?"_

"Seeing as you're texting me, I'll assume you're still alive. Congratulations."

* * *

Art, she learned, was major in Madrid. The Museo Reina Sofia was captivating, although, to be quite honest, Masami had never been much of an artist, far more interested in music. The Retiro Park was an invigorating experience, tranquil and exquisite enough to lull her into a half-nap.

She took pictures when she could, reveled in the energy and zeal that surrounded the city, noting that Ryohei would probably enjoy this place.

* * *

_"Maiko witch, stop sending me fucking random pictures from who-knows-where! I don't care!"_

"Thank you for your advice, I'll keep that in mind."

* * *

But what Masami loved the most were the dances.

The dances and the gowns and the music. Salsa was the best, she thought dreamily, more than happy to watch the performers dance the night away in one of the lesser-populated areas she'd found. There was just such a spirit in Latin dancing that classical dances lacked.

One of the local dancers caught her watching and laughed, warm and bright. Grabbing Masami by the hands, she drew her smoothly into the circle of music and taught her the steps, moving with a sensuality and passion she couldn't hope to match.

" _Bueno, bueno_ ," the woman praised and spun her wildly.

Masami laughed, happy.

* * *

_"So, hey, Gokudera got turned into a kid yesterday! It was pretty cool. We even played a game of catch!"_

"That does sound very interesting, yes."

* * *

In many ways, Masami wasn't moral in the manner that most people were. That was to say, if a psychiatrist were to spend some time with her, they would most likely diagnose her as somewhat psychopathic. She was fully aware of this.

Partially, it was because of how she was raised. The Hibari family had no tolerance for weakness, and mercy, while useful, was ultimately for the herbivores. Bloodlust was accepted, if not encouraged, and rules and laws were more of a pesky obstacle than anything to be taken seriously.

There was also the fact that, innately, Masami was an eminently practical person regarding most matters. She had kept Kyoya from killing for so long simply because it would have brought trouble from the police, not out of any sense of righteous ethics.

In that same line of thought, if there were no consequences and the best possible solution was murder, then that was fine with her.

However, psychopathic or not, she was still an innocent to death. Which was, now that she thought about it, the real reason her mother had forced her to come along. There was a time and a place for freaking out, and on the battlefield wasn't it.

The mission went well, or as well as an assassination could go. Rika disguised herself as an entertainer in the more elegant parts of the city, having pulled several strings to get there, while Masami was recruited as a waitress, whose only real job was to pretend to be busy and discreetly observe the scene.

Ten minutes in, the target arrived.

Masami had always known that her mother was a talented assassin, but it had been a distant knowledge, similar to how she knew penguins lived in the South Pole. For the first time, she was blatantly slapped in the face with the understanding that Rika was a well-versed professional killer.

It was an...experience.

There weren't any flaws in her mask at all, or at least, none that her daughter could detect. Wearing a wig which endowed with her curly brown hair and flaunting amber eyes, in a black dress that fit her like a glove, Rika smiled with rose-tinted lips and batted thick lashes accentuated with dark eyeshadow.

She was warm, sophisticated, and charming. Her smile was radiant and her bearing immaculate. Spanish flowed freely from her lips, the accent localized and perfect, while she steadily intoxicated the man with offerings of hard alcohol.

When Rika led him outside, Masami followed.

The moon hung beautiful and wise in the night sky, paid court by shimmering, faraway stars. The faint moonlight glinted off of the knife that appeared in Rika's hand for the shortest second before it swiped across her target's throat and the blood spray went everywhere.

What was once clean air became tainted by copper.

"My client is a pretentious man," Rika told Masami lightly in Japanese, letting the man topple over with a grunt. "He wants to make a scene."

"I see." Dimly, she was aware that her voice came out softer than it should have.

"For the money, this job is on the easy side of the spectrum," Rika continued, flicking the blood off of her knife. It disappeared rapidly up her sleeve, and she turned around to smile at her daughter. "It was relatively straightforward, was it not?"

Masami watched the life fade from the man's eyes and pressed her lips together. "Hai."

"Come along now. The authorities will be here by dawn."

When they returned to the hotel, Rika casually donning a stylish coat to conceal the red on her dress, Masami strolled to their room without a hitch in her stride, her smile polite and bland.

She stepped into the bathroom and huddled under the shower spray for an hour, lingering long after the water had turned cold, shivering the entire time. Rika was back to her immaculate self when Masami stepped out, a cup of hot chocolate in her hands.

"You'll adapt," Rika said.

Masami was sure she would. Perhaps what frightened her the most was that she could feel nothing but apathy for the man her mother had killed.

...he had simply been so _weak._

* * *

_"The herbivores never cease crowding on Tanabata."_

"It is a festival, Onii-san."

_"Masami-san, Reborn is being as ridiculous as ever!"_

"I presume your training is going well then."

* * *

Of course, in the end, her mother would be right. By the time the third corpse landed at her feet, Masami would be entirely unaffected.

* * *

_"Your Italian is still atrocious. Spanish isn't helping."_

"Thank you for your concern, Gokudera-san."

_"Hey, so how's Spain? It is fun?"_

"Yes. Spain has been amusing."

* * *

"You're already learning Italian, right?" Rika shrugged on a silk jacket and tossed a scarf over her neck. Colorful earrings were hanging from her ears, and she deftly slipped her feet into black high heels.

Masami watched her, sitting on the side of her bed. "Hai," she said, emotionless. After the violence of the previous night, everything seemed a bit muted, a little less innocuous than before. If her mother noticed, she didn't mention it.

Instead, Rika said, "We're going to Italy in two days. Be ready," and swept out the door.

Wandering around Madrid calmed Masami down a bit. She allowed the bustle and life of the city to soothe her conflicted emotions and wash the imprint of crimson away. She lost herself in the music and the dancing and let her feet carry her where they may.

Forty-eight hours passed in a blur and then she was on a plane once more, the night sky a cool indigo beyond her window, peaceful and bloodless and boring.

* * *

Venice was a place of beauty and history, intricate gondolas and waterfront palazzos.

After being settled in a hotel and left by Rika, Masami didn't hesitate to envelop herself in the city's romantic atmosphere and fascinating culture. It was a wonderful distraction, at the very least, and her lack of fluency or otherwise, she was going to enjoy her time here.

The architecture caught her attention first. St. Mark's Basilica appeared more of a work of art than anything functional, and she wasn't in the least bit interested in religion, but she snapped some photos nonetheless. Gallerie dell'Accademia was an actual house of art, and she happily spends hours there observing the displays.

Italian food was...interesting. Masami had known of pizza before of course, but there was just something different about the authentic dish. She wasn't certain she liked it, but she didn't regret trying it. Pasta was more suited to her tastes, and the seafood here was magnificent.

When Masami fell asleep that night, her rest was plagued by nothing more than flares of dancing purple.

As the sun rose, she drank coffee in St. Mark's Square and closed her eyes to better listen to the enthusiastic chatter going on around her. A trip to Doge's Palace or Palazzo Ducale took up the rest of her morning, and she spent her afternoon admiring the Murano, buying a few glass trinkets here and there.

Rather than going back to the hotel as night fell, Masami explored the Grand Canal and sighed at the Rialto Bridge.

When she finally returned to her room, Rika was waiting. "Now that you've gotten that out of your system," she said primly, seated cross-legged on her bed, "it's time for you to gain control of your Flames."

"Meditation?"

"Meditation."

* * *

_"The Summer Festival, if at all possible, was worse."_

"I'm glad you're enjoying yourself, Onii-san."

_"Why are you in Venice? Are you at least learning good Italian?"_

"Vacation. I would hardly be a good judge, Gokudera-san."

* * *

Tsuna had been getting used to Namimori without Masami around. It hadn't been easy at all, but there was Reborn, Gokudera, and Yamamoto to distract himself with, and to his surprise, Tsuna realized that it wasn't quite as monstrously difficult as he had imagined.

He sometimes wondered, in the back of his mind, how long this had been in coming and what clues he had missed.

Because even when word spread in school that Masami was gone—the rumors were ridiculous—Gokudera and Yamamoto were there to keep the bullies off Tsuna. Yamamoto was more subtle about it, usually with a laugh and an off-hand comment, but Gokudera just let loose with the dynamite.

It gave Tsuna headaches to even think about it.

At lunch, well, Masami had been pretty busy with her prefect duties for a while now. He almost couldn't remember the last time she'd sat with them on a day that wasn't close to a particularly important test. And the silence and space were more than taken up by Gokudera and Yamamoto.

On the other hand, there was Hibari. Hibari, who, Tsuna was terrified to note, was five hundred percent more pissed off than before now that his sister wasn't there to keep the peace or provide whatever it was that was needed to calm the beast.

What that meant for Tsuna mostly? Knocking on the Hibari Mansion door, getting greeted with a death glare, and being beat up even worse than usual. Recently, Hibari had even started dragged Yamamoto and Gokudera into their spars.

The outcome remained the same, of course—it was The Hibari Kyoya—but that did mean fewer bruises for Tsuna.

It also resulted in them being thrown out after the spars were over, not tea and conversation, but he would take what he could get.

Out of everything, Tsuna thought that he missed the cool confidence and unbiased advice that Masami had given him the most. Before Reborn, before anyone else, she had been the one who had looked at him and decided that he could, would, be someone better than just Dame-Tsuna, and her presence had always reminded him of that.

Not that he needed anyone to tell him to keep his back straight and his head held high nowadays, not when it had become habit sometime when he wasn't looking, but the memo had been appreciated.

Occasionally, when Tsuna was feeling particularly introspective, he would miss Masami's lack of favoritism. Reborn was probably the least prejudiced after she was, but even he came in after she had whipped Tsuna into shape. Yamamoto saw Tsuna as the guy who had saved his life, and Gokudera...was Gokudera.

Masami, though, Masami looked at him, all of him, the Tsuna before and after she had glided into his life. She didn't put him on a pedestal or let him give anything but his best, and when she talked to him, she was talking to Sawada-san, not the Vongola Decimo, or the Hero-In-Dying-Will.

In that way, Masami had always been neutral, and Tsuna was unspeakably grateful to her for it.

There was also something to be said for having someone around who, while maddeningly impossible and implacable, valued normalcy and was mostly sane.

But Masami seemed happy, judging by the text messages and the small gifts that showed up in his mailbox every few weeks or so. And Tsuna was happy for his friend, because she deserved everything the world had to offer.

There was that, and the mayhem raging in Namimori. Hibari might oversee their training, but he didn't keep a close eye on them, not like Masami did. Consequently, Hibari didn't catch most of the antics Reborn pulled out of his hat before Reborn magically made the smoking craters and wrecked property disappear.

God only knew what Masami would have done to them if she was forced to deal with all of them.

"Hey, Tsuna!" Yamamoto leaned his elbow on his shoulder, cheerful smile dull today. "Did you see the news yet?"

"News...?" That didn't bode well. In fact, when did that ever bode well?

"Yeah." Yamamoto placed a newspaper on the table in front of him. "It's pretty brutal."

**_"Namimori Student Viciously Attacked! Missing Every Last One Of His Teeth!"_ **

Tsuna's stomach dropped. Then, his heart stuttered when he caught sight of the picture. "Oh, no," he whispered, eyes wide. "It's one of the prefects."

* * *

_Ring~ Ring~ Ring~_

"Greetings, Onii-san."

_"Masami. I need you back in Namimori."_

"...understood. I'll be back by tomorrow."

* * *

When Masami stepped foot on Namimori soil once more, she was beset by a sudden surge of discomfort. Of being weighed down once more in a way she'd never been in Spain or Italy or even Osaka, of being chained and leashed and restricted, and she hated it.

As always, she focused on the fact that her brother was here, that he needed something or another, and allowed that to crush her urge to run and run and never come back.

At least the kanzashi and yukata were familiar and comforting.

Plastering a courteous smile on her lips, Masami strolled down the street. Here and there, someone called out a greeting and a welcome back, and it was full circle now, wasn't it? Her time away from this cage hadn't been nearly long enough, but she swallowed that down and nodded politely in response.

It was a relief when she walked back onto Hibari land. Hotels were convenient, but they were uncomfortable, and there was a perpetual touch of sterility to their rooms that made her wary.

Rika had also very helpfully shown her the many, many ways someone could get assassinated in a hotel, so there was that, too.

Masami slipped soundlessly into her house and breathed a sigh of relief, the last line of tension falling from her shoulders. She covered a yawn, already mentally calculating how long it would take her to get used to the different time zone.

Previously, it hadn't really mattered since the nighttime activities had been just as entertaining as the daytime activities, but things were obviously different back here.

Sparing a glance at the clock, she concluded that it would take Kyoya a few more hours to make it back from Namimori Middle, so Masami took the liberty of taking a nice, hot shower and collapsing in her futon after asserting that everything in the house was as it should be.

After all of the travel, after the blood, after the jetlag, it was much too easy to fall asleep.

* * *

"Masami."

She woke as the sun was setting, the warm glow of it traveling along the tatami mats. Blinking sleep out of her eyes, she registered the figure standing above her.

"Onii-san. Greetings," Masami muttered huskily, sitting up and running a hand through her hair. "What time is it?"

"Eight," Kyoya said, crisp and clear. "Dinner's ready." With that, he turned and left her room, sliding the screen shut behind him.

She processed that for a moment, picking up her gunsen, which had been lying on the mat next to her futon, and spreading it idly. It didn't take long for her to get dressed, and when they sat down to eat, it was as if she had never left.

If one ignored the dangerous spark in Kyoya's eyes, of course.

It was after dinner, with all of the dishes washed and dried, when Masami said, "What happened?"

Without a word, he placed the newspaper down on the table. She picked it up and scanned the article, eyes narrowing when she recognized the prefect.

Kamisaka was particularly devoted when training. He loved to eat ramen and hated paperwork, and he was one of _theirs._

"Is he still alive?"

"Barely."

Faintly, she frowned and wondered if she could have prevented this. Wondered if, had she been less selfish, had she stayed and devoted her time to training those poor herbivores, this could have been avoided.

It was an ugly thought. And she saw it reflected in her brother's eyes, entwined with the territorial rage of an apex predator and the self-castigation of a pack leader.

* * *

Tsuna first realized Masami was back in Namimori when the front doors were gently opened, not wrenched apart, and a familiar voice said, "Greetings."

Head snapping up, Tsuna promptly lit up like fireworks. "Masami-san! You're back!" Casting a careful eye over his classmate, he found her looking pretty much the same, although her smile was sweeter than before.

Whether that was a good sign or a bad sign, he didn't know.

At his right side, Gokudera jolted, a quicksilver scowl flitting over his face as green eyes sharpened into a glare. "Tch, why did she have to come back?" he complained under his breath but it was half-hearted.

At his left side, Yamamoto laughed, grinning openly. "Hey, welcome back! How have you been?"

Reborn merely peered up at the girl with black eyes. "Ciaossu, Masami."

Masami wore a loose black yukata, her hair held up by kanzashi that looked like streams of red flowers. She smiled, quietly pleased. "So I am. Thank you, I've been well." Turning, she invited them inside with a flicker of silk. "Onii-san's not back yet, I'm afraid," she said conversationally as she led the way to the sitting room.

Tsuna blinked, putting aside his joy at having his first friend back to try and puzzle out this oddity. On the weekends, especially this early in the morning, Hibari had always been at home, as far as he could remember.

"Where is he?" Yamamoto piped up, linking his hands behind his head.

She glanced back at them, smiling enigmatically. "Busy with another affair."

Tsuna thought about what would draw Masami back to Namimori when she'd been plainly happier outside, what would occupy Hibari of all people, and gulped.

"You've heard about the attacks then," Gokudera summarized, echoing Tsuna's thoughts.

"Sadly, yes." Masami's voice remained calm and even, but there was an edge there, frosty and lethal, that made Tsuna shiver. An angry Masami was a scary Masami, no matter how happy he was to have her back.

It was almost a relief when they entered the familiar room, the steaming tea exactly where it normally was, the books set along the table. Uncommonly, Tsuna wasn't a sweating, panting, hurting mess when he collapsed on the zabuton, but that was an excellent thing in his book.

"Alright," Gokudera grumbled, heaving a long-suffering sigh. "Let's see what you've done to your Italian now."

Yamamoto snickered.

Masami offered an innocent smile that didn't make Tsuna feel better at all.

* * *

Half an hour later, in the middle of groaning his way through yet another Mafia Boss Lesson, while Gokudera shouted at Yamamoto because apparently Masami's Italian was now leagues better than theirs and Gokudera found that personally offensive, Tsuna flinched, book falling to the ground, as something screamed a warning inside of his head.

"Juudaime!?" Gokudera called immediately, worried. "What's wrong!?"

"I...I don't..." Tsuna shook his head, suddenly finding it hard to breathe. His lungs didn't seem to want to cooperate. "I..."

"Ah." Masami flowed to her feet, snapping open her fan in one smooth movement. Her brief glance at Tsuna was speculative. "Onii-san's back."

It sounded like a death sentence.

Tsuna went five shades paler and swayed a little, alarms all but blaring in his skull. No one wanted to be around when The Hibari Kyoya was angry...and for some reason, Tsuna was fairly certain that he was _furious_ right now. Tsuna needed to run, he should have run, it was too late to run—

The screen was shoved open. Hibari stood in the doorway, face blank, shoulders tense, and tonfa in hand. Killing intent infused the air, thick and noxious, and oh God, Tsuna _really_ couldn't breathe now.

_He was so going to die._

"What. The. Fuck." Gokudera rasped out, mouth thin and white, fingers curled around his dynamite.

From the corner of his eye, Tsuna noticed Reborn's mysterious absence and the sharpness in Yamamoto's eyes.

Meanwhile, Masami only smiled and bowed, perfectly composed. "Greetings, Onii-san."

Hibari glared. Tsuna tried not to sob. "Masami," the prefect purred slowly, and it was a brutal command.

"Hai, hai." Masami waited until Hibari had prowled away before smiling at Tsuna and the others. "Come along now. I don't think you'll want to miss this."

On the contrary, Tsuna was dead-certain he did want to miss this—whatever 'this' was—but arguing with Masami was useless, so he just nodded and resigned himself to his doom.

"Woah, easy there," Yamamoto said as he steadied Tsuna when he wavered on his feet. Tsuna muttered his thanks and tried to brace himself for whatever come next.

It still didn't stop him from squeaking pathetically when he realized they were heading to the training room.

"Backs to the wall, please," Masami suggested, very gently, when they arrived and the door was closed by Reborn, who had appeared behind them with an unholy gleam in his eyes. Hibari stood on the other side of the room, eyes narrowed in anticipation. "This may get a bit messy."

Tsuna practically sprinted to obey, although once he was huddled against the wall, Gokudera and Yamamoto beside him, he rapidly realized the disparity between his actions and his surroundings. If he wasn't fighting Hibari, and his friends weren't fighting Hibari, and his tutor wasn't fighting Hibari, then...

Masami serenely approached her brother and stopped ten meters away. There were two fans in her hands, and daintily, she bowed. "Shall we dance?"

"Holy shit," Gokudera muttered, fingers fidgeting like he wanted to light a cigarette.

"Wow," Yamamoto commented, grinning. "This is going to be awesome."

"Pay attention, Dame-Tsuna," Reborn commanded.

Tsuna whimpered and tried to become one with the wall at his back.

Hibari hummed in response and slid into a combat position. There was a heartbeat of complete and utter silence. Even the birds outside stopped chirping. Tsuna held his breath, throat dry and heart pounding. For once, Gokudera, Yamamoto, and Reborn didn't jump in with sassy remarks.

Then, Hibari lunged forward, with all of the flawlessly controlled power and poise of a large cat, and Masami was spinning away, beautiful and elegant, and they were sparring, fighting, dancing, and Tsuna—

Tsuna didn't realize he was holding his breath until his lungs were screaming for air. Slowly, he inhaled, eyes still fixated on the pair. By his side, his friends were quiet, and so was Reborn. It was terribly hard to look away.

In some part of his mind, hidden behind his daily anxieties and worries and doubts, Tsuna had always been aware that Hibari was holding back when he spared with Tsuna. Otherwise, Tsuna would be a smear on the ground, after all, and Masami, well, Masami was in another category altogether.

Watching the two strongest people he knew fight was...magnificent, in a mildly horrifying way.

Swaying to the left and pivoting on her foot, Masami blocked and deflected four of Hibari's strikes and then smoothly snapped open her black fan, lashing out. Hibari wove under the deadly weapon, was coming up underneath her guard, but Masami wasn't there anymore, her footwork intricate and lightning-fast.

The white fan was swinging through the air, aimed at the back of Hibari's head, but he swung around, whacking it away with a tonfa. Its partner was already a silver blur, but Masami flipped backward, yukata offering no restriction to her fluidity, and they were moving again.

The smash of a tonfa on the wooden ground caused Tsuna to flinch instinctively, but Masami merely pushed off, righted herself in mid-air, only to use the wall as a springboard and crash herself directly into Hibari, who grunted and interlocked his tonfa against the assault.

Under the combined pressure, the floorboards beneath splintered slightly. There was first just a hint of a fissure, and then an almighty _CRACK_ as a crater appeared below Hibari's feet.

"Hieeee," Tsuna whispered, eyes wide as saucers.

Disturbingly enough, Hibari only grinned and dug his feet in, pushing Masami away. She landed neatly on her feet and ducked under the tonfa aimed at her head, a foot darting out to catch around Hibari's ankle. Only, he was already gone, swinging a tonfa at her shoulder from her right.

Masami deflected it with ridiculous ease. Tsuna, who ended each spar with aching muscles and colorful bruises, despaired.

By now, their weapons were merely arcs of color in the air, metal glinting here and there, sparks flying where they collided. It was odd, because, in Tsuna's experience, everything slowed down as a fight progressed, but then, that was probably just his bad stamina speaking.

Here, both Masami and Hibari only seemed to get _faster_ as time went on. Attacking. Blocking. Ducking. Swirling and tossing and whirling and dancing. Neither of them were holding back here and now, and death was a laughing murmur in the silence, the raw artistry of the Hibari siblings almost but not quite taking away from the sheer danger.

The sharp edge of a fan a centimeter away from a vulnerable throat. A foot pulled back right before snapping a rib. The half-completed maneuver meant to break the spine. A tonfa aimed and almost smashed into an eyeball. The soft whisper of an edge a second too late to decapitate.

It was hard to comprehend everything that was happening, like watching a choreographed fight in fast forward. Just keeping up with what was going on took up most of his brain power, but, as Tsuna watched, he was reminded of a pair of predatory birds, darting around each other, over and under, left and right, perfectly synchronized.

Other times, he thought they were more like wolves in a fight to the death, snapping at each other, teeth and claws, mother nature at its finest, more feral, but all the more beautiful in its savagery, and shivered. Tsuna suspected he would be torn to shreds in milliseconds should he try to intervene.

Time became negligible, but once, and only once, Tsuna was able to tear his eyes away from the fight for a few seconds to sneak a glance at his companions.

Reborn was, as usual, unreadable, but his gaze was set firmly on the scene in front of them. There was an ear-piercing shriek of metal against metal a beat later, and Tsuna winced despite himself.

Gokudera was frowning, but he didn't seem to be angry. Instead, he tracked each movement of the two unerringly, head cocked to the side like a curious cat. There was a furrow in his brow, and Tsuna wondered what calculations were going through his friend's genius brain.

Yamamoto, though...

Yamamoto was grinning, bright and wide, eyes as sharp as blades and focused solely on the fight. There was a light to his face that Tsuna normally only saw during a particularly challenging baseball game, and he was clearly more exhilarated than afraid or anything sensible.

Tsuna exhaled slowly and cried tears inwardly. Why couldn't he have any normal friends!?

It could have been minutes, could have been hours, as Masami and Hibari fought on. It was hard to tell, especially since the training room was devoid of anything that could be destroyed, clock included. Tsuna was well aware that time never mattered much during a fight.

Finally, _finally,_ Masami did something tricky with her fan and sent one of the tonfa sprawling on the floor, and Hibari stopped the remaining tonfa a centimeter from her throat. Tsuna gulped hard, eyes wide as saucers.

Masami's smile was soft and pleased. She was breathing hard but not outright gasping. Bizarrely, most of her kanzashi were still perfectly in place and her yukata was only slightly rumpled, a thin, thin sheen of sweat on her pale skin. "Yield."

Hibari grinned, keen and toothy. He drew back smoothly, physical condition mirroring his sister's. "Investigate," he ordered curtly but the raw murderous intent from before was gone. Straightening up, he grabbed his tonfa and strolled out of the room, efficient and easy.

Masami hummed and deftly made her fans disappear. She glided over to the door, where the normal supplies were located, and sipped at a water bottle, rubbing a towel over her face, her neck, and wiping her hands. There was no hint of any difficulty or awkwardness in her movements.

Tsuna, who could fight against the head prefect for about ten minutes and practically crawled away from each session, despaired some more.

"Well then." Turning, she smiled at them, completely and utterly peaceful. "Let's get going, shall we?"

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OpalescentGold: Ahhh, I'm sorry this has taken so long! My beta disappeared somewhere - I hope they're okay - so now I'm missing a beta.
> 
> A/N: WOULD ANYONE BE WILLING TO BETA FOR ME? IT WOULD MAKE POSTING CHAPTERS SO MUCH EASIER.
> 
> OpalescentGold: Ahem. So what the previous chapters have been building up to has finally happened. Masa-chan snaps and leaves and is more than happy with what she finds outside of Namimori. Also. Mukuro.
> 
> ^.^, thanks for everyone's support! My tumblr is [here](https://opalescentgold.tumblr.com/). Comments are always wonderful and welcome.
> 
> Chabudai: tables with short legs.
> 
> Churro: a sweet snack consisting of a strip of fried dough dusted with sugar or cinnamon, popular in Spain.
> 
> Flan: an egg custard dessert with a layer of soft melted caramel on top, popular in Spain.
> 
> Futon: thin bedding meant for sleeping
> 
> Gunsen: lightweight but strong folding fans.
> 
> Kanzashi: hair ornaments worn in traditional Japanese hairstyles, often by Maiko.
> 
> Kimono: a type of traditional Japanese formal wear composed of silk robes, sashes and various accessories.
> 
> Maiko: trainee Geisha who typically undergo training from their mid teens to early twenties.
> 
> Okonomiyaki: a Japanese savoury pancake containing a variety of ingredients
> 
> Palazzo: an impressive public building, translates to palace in Italian.
> 
> Tanabata: a Japanese festival originating from the Chinese Qixi Festival.
> 
> Tatami: mat floors traditionally made of rice straw.
> 
> Takoyaki: a ball-shaped Japanese dumpling made of batter and filled with diced octopus, tempura scraps, pickled ginger, and green onion.
> 
> Tessen: heavy folding fans with outer spokes made of heavy plates of iron.
> 
> Yukata: inexpensive, informal summer robe for summer, similar to a kimono.


	8. Quickstep

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OpalescentGold: I do not own Katekyo Hitman Reborn.

_Quickstep: a ballroom dance style that is energetic, form-intensive, and elegant with extremely quick stepping, danced to 4/4 music._

* * *

"Masami, what is _this_?" Kyoya eyed his plate disdainfully, with an added helping of confusion.

She only smiled serenely. "Paella. A Spanish dish."

His glare was spectacularly ineffective. "And _why_ are we eating a _Spanish_ dish!?"

Masami shrugged. "It's delicious." She had gained a very healthy appreciation for Spanish food during her time in Spain. "Consider this meal an exercise in broadening your cultural borders if you must."

Kyoya scowled darkly and ate his paella aggressively. There were, she noted a tad smugly, no actual complaints about the taste of the food. Really, it wasn't as if Masami didn't know what Kyoya liked and didn't like. There was no need for all of this doubt, not that it really mattered. He was distracted, and that, in the end, was what she had been aiming for.

The churros con chocolate were only a bonus.

* * *

Hayato stomped down the hallway with a scowl.

Two weeks had passed since the maiko witch had returned and things hadn't gotten better. If anything, things had only gotten worse as the casualties mounted up, most of them prefects and a heck of a lot them missing a bunch of their teeth. Unsurprisingly, Hibari, the homicidal psychopath, had only gotten more and more irritated as the days went on.

Hadn't Masami been reading up on anger management? Why hadn't she done anything about her crazy brother yet? Actually, now that he thought about it, the witch had been even more carefree with her damned fan than usual recently. Maybe they were both losing it?

Well, whatever. The point was, was that just about everyone in town was fucking on edge. Juudaime seemed terribly stressed nowadays, despite Hayato's best attempts to reassure him of his safety with his Right-Hand Man around, and even Yamamoto was carrying his metal bat around with him like the baseball idiot he was.

Today, just like on every other blasted Saturday, they were all at the Hibari Mansion. Hayato was still halfway convinced it was a secret mafia base. He just had to figure out where they were hiding the secret entrances.

Unlike normal, though, Masami had disappeared somewhere after inviting them inside. Juudaime was still doing his job as a spectacular Boss to get stronger by fighting against Hibari, but Reborn had dismissed Hayato instead of letting him throw dynamite at the baseball idiot, which was disappointing. It was usually a great stress reliever.

"I have another training program in mind for Yamamoto," Reborn had said, dark eyes glinting mischievously. "Why don't you go find Masami? She might need some help."

So here Hayato was, trying to navigate his way through this absurdly complicated house in search of a witch who could have made her way to the moon by now. Really, if it had been anyone but the Greatest Hitman in the World and Juudaime's mentor asking...

"Oi!" he called out because he was sick of wandering randomly down this hallway and that. Who knew what was lurking in this place? "Maiko witch! Get out here!"

No response. Tch, of course not. She just _had_ to make things complicated for him. Hayato's scowl deepened. Stupid witch. Like hell he was going to let her win.

"OI—"

"Gokudera-san."

The voice was soft, exasperated, and came directly behind him.

Hayato would never, in a million years, confess to yelping, jumping a metre into the air, and whirling around, almost tripping over his own feet.

Masami, one hand on the shoji panel—where the _hell_ did that come from; he swore it wasn't there a second ago—and silky pale pink yukata brushing the floor, arched an eyebrow at him that spoke plainly of being unimpressed.

He glowered. "You took your sweet time."

"So it seems." Turning away, she glided back into the room. "I assume Reborn-san sent you?"

"Yeah." Sighing, Hayato followed after her, well aware by now that losing his temper at Masami would only get him hit with a fan or outright ignored. "What the hell have you been doing anyway?" he asked before he was all the way in.

Silently, she gestured to the room with a wave of her arm.

It wasn't very impressive, he thought uncharitably at first. Then, his brain caught up and started picking elements apart and then, yeah, it became impressive.

The fusuma panels that acted as the walls were painted with falling cherry blossoms and white chrysanthemums and were pinned with random stuff. A single mahogany table in the middle dominated the room, encircled with seven heavy-looking chairs while two floor lamps flooded everything with warm light.

Which was great and all, if it weren't for the fact that, in Japan, cherry blossoms brought to mind samurai and kamikaze pilots, white chrysanthemums were popular for funerals, the mahogany table held an open laptop, files, books—the top one _The Art of_  fucking _War_ —and a gigantic map, and the stuff pinned to the walls were very recent newspaper clippings.

"Maiko witch," Hayato said slowly, "is this a goddamn _intelligence_ _room_!?"

Masami treated him to a coy, sweet smile that offered no reassurance at all and walked over to the table.

He frowned. "Witch—"

"Eighteen students," she murmured, cutting him off. There was no hint of anger on her face, but the underlying steel in her voice sent a shiver down his spine. "All from Namimori Middle. Beaten, normally with broken bones. Teeth extracted, though the number varies."

Hayato blinked and walked a little closer. "Same M.O. for each one then?"

"Hai. And also..." Masami spread the files out across the table and over the map before beginning to switch them around purposefully. When she seemed to be satisfied, she took a step back and frowned slightly. "The number of teeth extracted is very...precise."

His curiosity won out over his distaste. Hayato moved to stand next to the witch and glanced over the files. They were the medical and school records of the victims, although he had no idea how she had gotten her hands on them. Wasn't this shit supposed to be confidential or something?

Then again, both Hibari and Masami held inordinate amounts of power in Namimori. Yet another sign in favor of the U.M.A slash Secret Mafia Family theory.

Nonetheless, with everything in the order that it was, it only took him seconds to notice what she had. "Fuuuck," Hayato hissed, wishing he could light up a cigarette. "Descending or ascending?"

"Descending. Kamisaka-san was the first, and he lost every last one of his teeth. Odaka-san was attacked yesterday, and he lost fourteen of his teeth."

"What are they trying to do?" he demanded, spinning around to peer at the newspaper clippings. "What factor are they using to determine who gets attacked next?"

"Unknown. However, eighty percent of the victims have been prefects." Masami seated herself in the seat closest to the laptop and began to type something in the search engine she had running. For such a traditional person, she was a pretty fast typer. "Do you believe it is mafia related?"

Hayato grimaced at the memories that evoked. "Yeah. The Mafia are into twisted stuff like this." Finding nothing of importance in the newspapers, he settled down and began to skim the medical reports instead. He didn't want to admit it, but... "Juudaime's probably the target."

A pause, but when he looked up, the maiko witch's face was perfectly neutral. It was irritating. "Perhaps he should stay here more often then."

He bristled. "You saying you think I can't protect him!?"

"No." Her typing never faltered. "All the same, do you not agree that Sawada-san would be safer here?"

Just because Hayato could admit to himself that Hibari and Masami were far more powerful than he was, especially after that little display when the witch first came back, didn't mean he would ever say it out loud. Instead, he scoffed. "Aren't you scared your house is going to get wrecked?"

Her small smile was knowing. "I think you'll find that my home is sturdier than you expect." Then, before he could retort, "Would you read Kamisaka-san's personal information to me, please?"

He stared. "What."

Masami sighed and glanced up at last, typing ceasing. "His year, height, weight, home address, after-school activities, and other relevant information."

Hayato narrowed his eyes. "You're trying to find a correlation between the victims."

"Hai. Now, if you would..."

He grumbled beneath his breath but picked up the file anyway.

* * *

By the time they got to Odaka, Hayato's voice was starting to go thin, and Masami's fingers were stumbling more often. "Done," he noted with relish, throwing the file back on the table and heaving a long sigh.

She was more conservative with her relief but exercised her wrists in slow circles and massaged lightly at her neck. "It's three," Masami muttered, rising out of her seat. "I suspect Sawada-san and Yamamoto-san are finished."

He glared half-heartedly. "Hey, I want the results, too!"

"Later," came the implacable answer, followed by the swish of silk as she slid open the shoji panel and quirked an eyebrow back at him over her shoulder.

Hayato rolled his eyes expressively but walked after her, strangely looking forward to the fine tea and language lessons despite knowing the baseball idiot would drive him crazy with his pronunciation again.

And, of course, he was right. On both accounts.

* * *

"Eeeh? We're staying for the rest of the afternoon?" Tsuna blinked, baffled at this sudden turn in the usual routine. Normally, after they'd had tea, snacks and learned some more Italian, they'd bid Masami goodbye and go back home.

"Problem, Dame-Tsuna?" Reborn smiled innocently up at him, dark eyes glinting malevolently. "Masami and Gokudera suggested it. I've already called Mamma."

"Hieee! No, no problem!" Tsuna denied frantically, possessing no desire whatsoever to see what damage those two could cause together. But...together? "Wait...Masami-san and Gokudera-kun hate each other!"

"Now, now, hate is a very powerful term." Reborn sipped at his coffee. "You should be happy they're getting along, you know. It's a mafia boss' job to make sure their subordinates are cooperating."

"Masami-san's not my subordinate!" Tsuna hissed, glancing around rapidly to make sure the prefect in question hadn't heard the derogatory remark. Thankfully, she still seemed to be preoccupied with her Italian grammar book. "And I'm not going to be a mafia boss!"

Reborn casually punched him in the stomach.

"Ooof!"

"Ouch, that looks like it hurt."

"Juudaime, are you okay!?"

"I-I'm fine," Tsuna gasped out, bent over with his hands clasped over his abdomen. Even though he couldn't see her from his position, he had the embarrassing feeling Masami was raising an eyebrow at him. Before anyone could say anything more, though, a beautiful piano melody sang through the air. It seemed familiar, but as Tsuna straightened up out of curiosity, he couldn't place it.

By his side, Gokudera stiffened slightly. Tsuna noticed, furrowing his brow in confusion, but as Masami snapped open her phone to take the call, the chance for an explanation passed.

"Greetings." A pause as she listened to whoever was on the line, and then a faint, faint frown that bode nothing well. "I see. Collect the necessary information, please. I presume Onii-san is there? ...yes, thank you. Goodbye."

"Another attack?" Gokudera asked before Masami had even fully ended the call.

"Three," she said crisply, knocking her tea back like it was a shot. Which, in Tsuna's experience, meant very, very bad things had happened.

Yamamoto propped his chin up on his fist. "Sounds like it's getting pretty bad."

"See, Dame-Tsuna?" Reborn's face was unreadable. "Aren't you happy you get to stay here?"

Tsuna couldn't help but shudder.

Masami noticed—of course, she did—and smiled, again, very, very faintly, rising to her feet. "I expect Onii-san to be busy until late at night, so you all are welcome to stay until then. Please feel free to relax and move about at your leisure. That said, I'd be very grateful if you don't make a mess."

"And where are _you_ going?" asked Gokudera, very suspiciously.

She hummed, pausing momentarily at the shoji screen. "I'm going to take a walk outside," Masami said, artfully guileless. "If you need me, just yell."

* * *

"Hey, Masami." Takeshi took a seat on the engawa, grinning his appreciation at the zen garden that spread out before him. It was beautiful, but then, he'd expected less from the Hibaris. It was, he suspected, something of a point of honor, like how his dad refused to prepare his sushi with the more modern methods.

Masami smiled, clearly more at ease after her 'walk outside'. He was glad; this contented mood was why he had decided to wait a good half an hour before searching her out. Her legs dangled over the colorful wildflowers. "Greetings, Yamamoto-san."

He leaned back, holding himself up with hands pressed flat against the smooth wood. "Fall's coming, huh?" Takeshi watched the leaves, blazing red and golden yellow and sienna orange, drift in the wind, one perfect maple leaf coming to rest gently on the surface of the pond.

It floated easily, spinning this way and that. A curious koi came up to nudge it gently.

"Hai." Reaching up, Masami plucked a leaf out of the air and twirled it by the stem. It was a gorgeous deep crimson. Inexplicably, Takeshi was reminded of Gokudera. Must be because of the temper. "I assume you have a question for me, Yamamoto-san?"

He smiled sheepishly, pretty much caught red-handed...no pun intended. "Yeah, I guess so." Swinging his legs like a child, too, Takeshi considered how to put his thoughts into words. This had been coming for a while, he knew. The recent attacks had just been the final catalyst.

"The guys that are attacking our classmates..." he started slowly, "they're strong, aren't they?"

"Strong," she repeated, as if testing the word out to see if it fit. "Yes, they're strong, and quite intelligent, for that matter."

Oh, Takeshi thought, so that was what Masami and Gokudera were doing earlier. From what it sounded like, they hadn't gotten anywhere. Shame.

"Do you think they're stronger than you?"

"It's possible." There was no hint of concern or irritation in her voice. "Of course it's possible. While Onii-san is a very good dancer, as am I, we're small in the scope of the universe. Tiny, in fact."

"Yeah, that's what I thought, too," he confessed without hesitation. He didn't think she was the type to get offended.

"Are you worried?"

There was no sense of judgment, but Takeshi smiled and shook his head anyway. "Nah, not worried. Just..."

That fight between Hibari and Masami last week had haunted him. He couldn't exactly explain it, even to himself, but watching that fight had been...exhilarating. Breathtaking in a way Takeshi normally only associated with a hard, _hard_ baseball game, when he was at bat and they were two points away from winning and his teammate was at third base.

Maybe it was the speed and grace of their movements, maybe it was the danger, maybe it was the simple...perfection of their dance. Takeshi didn't know, but he had been finding his thoughts whirling around the fight like it was a black hole, going over every second, every step and shift, all with a hushed sort of reverence.

And it hadn't taken long at all for a want to build up behind the awe.

"...say. if I wanted to be stronger, what do you think I should do?" Takeshi tilted his head back and grinned at the sky, clear and pristine blue, shielded with a veil of yellow that signified the sun's readiness to toss in the towel for the day.

"Hmm." To his slight relief, Masami didn't seem impatient at the long pause or surprised by his inquiry at all, but then, that was just like her. Instead, the quirk of her mouth was thoughtful, and she traced elegant fingers over the leaf's veins. "I presume Reborn-san or Gokudera-san has already informed you of your tendency to favor your arms?"

"Yeah. I've been working on it." It wasn't easy, not when his arms were so essential for playing baseball, but this was a game, too, and he intended to win it. Besides. Tsuna was definitely worth it.

She was silent for another long, peaceful heartbeat. "I would advise you to find a suitable weapon."

He was almost surprised. "A weapon, huh?"

"You're very familiar with the bat, but in terms of endurance and lethality, it's a bit lacking." As if to demonstrate, Masami whipped out her fan from somewhere on her person and began to fan herself, dark strands of hair flying in the gentle breeze. "Would you like to know some options?"

"Nah, it's okay. I already have something in mind." Takeshi wondered what his father would say when he asked about the family sword style. Before he'd met Tsuna, he had never shown any interest in it, after all.

* * *

"Well?" Hayato demanded, hands on his hips.

Masami glanced up from her laptop and stared at him unblinkingly. She didn't say a word.

He scowled and plopped himself in the seat across from her, crossing his arms. Figures he would find her in the library on a Sunday afternoon, right as the creeping rays of the sunset were sweeping over the bookshelves. "Do we have anything?" Hayato demanded impatiently. "Don't tell me you forgot to look at the results."

Even as he said it, he was well-aware that the possibility was so low as to be near zero. Witch she might be but Masami was nothing but meticulous.

She sighed near soundlessly. "Eighty-one percent were prefects. Sixty-six percent were male. Fifty-seven percent were in the outermost parts of town. Less than one percent were attacked within a thirty meter radius of school. Eighty-five percent third-years, nine percent second-years, and six percent first-years."

His frown only darkened. "None of that is a clear correlation, maiko witch."

"No." Masami tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "There have been twenty-one injured, which means there will be eleven more victims. I assume that Sawada-san will be targeted as either number one or after they have gone through the whole set."

Hayato gritted his teeth, fingers curling into fists. Like hell he was going to let anyone lay on a finger on his Boss! "Damn it, find something!" he snapped. "Something, anything!" Shoving away from the table, he wrenched himself out of the seat and began to pace, too restless on adrenaline and worry to sit still.

Silence from the witch, broken soon by the sound of typing. He glanced back at her warily, having suffered through enough fan-related injuries to know that quiet on Masami's part was just as dangerous as shouting and threats and gunfire from other, saner, people, but strangely enough, all she really was doing was working on her laptop.

Even if, well, her pointed focus on the screen, lack of communication, and mild frown were rather icy in nature.

Gokudera Hayato didn't _do_ guilt. He just didn't.

Huffing out a long breath, he ran a hand through his hair and threw himself back in the chair. "What can we do?" he asked, and if his voice was softer than before, it was just because yelling in a library wasn't on the list of unspoken rules he would gleefully break into a thousand pieces.

Masami flicked him a cool glance over the top of the laptop. "That would depend on your definition of 'do', Gokudera-san." Her voice was even and polite and colder than the Arctic.

He suppressed a wince. Yeah, okay, maybe he deserved that, but— "Shut up. You know what I mean."

She blinked at him for a long moment before those gray eyes began to scan her laptop screen, quick and intelligent. "Thirty-three percent trained in martial arts after school. Twenty-three percent were in the Kendo Club. Nine percent were in the Boxing Club. Four percent practiced parkour."

Masami tilted her head, gaze back on him, so intense it was almost enough to make him flinch backward. "If you'd like to 'do' something, then please grow stronger, Gokudera-san, preferably both mentally and physically. The storm, so to speak, will hit at any moment now."

And she smiled, sweet and lovely.

He shivered despite himself.

* * *

"Masami-san?" Tsuna was skipping class for the first time in a long time. He couldn't bring himself to care about the scolding Reborn was inevitably going to heap upon him, not when he was resting on a comfortable couch, cuddled up with a warm blanket, and holding a cup of hot chocolate in his hands.

Masami momentarily shifted her attention from the paperwork on her desk to him. "Sawada-san." It was the second time she'd directly acknowledged him since waving him inside her office and quietly telling Kusakabe to provide Tsuna with what he needed.

Tsuna didn't know how Kusakabe knew exactly what he wanted but found himself really enjoying his hot chocolate. To be honest, he'd expected Masami to tell him to go to class instead of loitering around her office, but she hadn't done anything but give him a swift once-over when he'd first knocked on her door.

Then again, even with all of these incidents, he'd noticed that she was much more relaxed after her short vacation than before. He wondered how long she had needed that, how long she had forced herself to stay. And speaking of the attacks...

"They're after me, aren't they?"

The scritch-scratch of her pen ceased, leaving the silence to ring in her office. Masami was motionless for three painful heartbeats before she placed the pen down carefully and steepled her fingers together, bringing them up beneath her chin. Her scrutiny was disconcerting, even with all these years between them.

"...yes," she said at last, and _this_ , this was why Tsuna had come to Masami. He knew Reborn would smirk knowingly and drawl out some puzzle he couldn't solve, Gokudera would stutter and reassure him that it was fine, nothing was wrong, no one was going to touch Tsuna, and Yamamoto would laugh and smile and say something airy and useless.

Not Masami. Like Hibari, only less scary but still plenty scary enough, she rarely offered him anything other than the truth when she decided that he deserved it. Sure, sometimes, she might coat it with politeness and honey and subtle twists he couldn't follow, but the important stuff, the truly important stuff—Masami didn't mess around with those.

"Do we know who they are?" Tsuna whispered, feeling like he was tainting the very air he breathed. He felt very cold all of a sudden and wrapped the blanket tighter around himself.

"I'm afraid not." Try as he might, he could find nothing but calm neutrality in her tone, in her eyes.

He was definitely shivering now and took a sip of hot chocolate to combat the chills in his bones. He thought...Namimori wasn't, had never been, safe, not before, when bullies could find him no matter where he ran, including inside his house, not with the yakuza and gleaming tonfa, and not after, when gun-totting hitman children came and explosions and dynamite were daily events, but this wasn't—

This wasn't the same. This was something _outside_ , where Reborn was a blank slate, where Hibari was incensed and Masami was working on paperwork instead of dancing with the enemy, and Tsuna was frightened. Helplessly terrified, because he knew, he just _knew_ , that people were expecting him to _fix_ this, and he didn't know if he could.

"What do I do?" he asked, voice soft and shaky.

She didn't reprimand him. "You know what to do."

"I do?" Tsuna didn't think he did. He wanted to hide under this blanket and drink his hot chocolate and maybe never leave. It was warm here, safe, and he hadn't realized how much he'd needed some sort of stability in the chaos of his life, some sort of safe zone. He was _fourteen_ ; how, why was this his life?

Masami hummed and picked up her pen again. "You do. Hold your head high, keep your back straight, speak politely, be confident, trust in your instincts, and be composed at all times. The dance will come naturally when the music sounds."

For a good ten seconds, he wasn't sure if this wasn't what she had been preparing him for all along, no matter how ludicrous it sounded.

* * *

"How," Masami inquired, placing her cup on the table, "does the Mafia view women?"

Bianchi smiled, wry, and leaned back in her chair, crossing her legs. She wore a simple black t-shirt and jeans, casual and beautiful as always. Masami wondered if she saved the elaborate dresses and make-up for when she truly wanted to distract and beguile.

"It varies. In most cases, not as well as you might think. Generally, a mafiosa is merely a physical reflection of her husband. A trophy wife for some, a means to a productive alliance for others, or just a way to demonstrate power through beauty and youth."

"The mafioso with the youngest, prettiest wife holds the most power?" That sounded like a waste. Of what, Masami couldn't say, but a waste nonetheless. Of a life, perhaps.

Bianchi shrugged. "It's just another measure of strength and virility. Posturing. Some of the more intelligent trophy wives run their husband's households and order the servants around, but men rule the Mafia and that's not likely to change. However."

Masami sipped her tea and waited.

Bianchi's smile was blade sharp and as sweetly poisonous as the food she could create with nothing more than intent and will. "There _has_ been a rise in female leadership in the past few decades. I dare say your boy is going to be dealing with some female Bosses during his reign."

She didn't bother reminding Bianchi that Tsunayoshi wasn't hers...at least, not solely hers. "And you?"

Long, perfectly manicured fingers tapped idly on the table, familiar green eyes set upon her with a perceptiveness that could have been frightening. "Me," Bianchi mused, almost mockingly. "I was born an heiress, did you know? Raised to be the perfect young lady, the perfect wife."

Masami blinked slowly and didn't say that she had never once considered getting married, to giving someone else that much power over her.

Bianchi waved a hand dismissively. "That particular plan of my parents didn't work, of course, not when it became clear what I could do." She smiled, and her tea began to bubble and turn purple. "Nice girls can't poison their husbands at the breakfast table, but hitmen can."

Masami spared a second to mourn her tea, which was now an obnoxious green, before casually dumping it out on the ground and sparring no concern for the grooves it began to make on the pavement. It had been a good idea to eat outside of the cafe, after all. "So," she said, "there are two paths for mafiosa. To stay at home or to go out and kill."

Bianchi tilted her head, considering. "Yes. That's about the gist of it."

Masami nodded and rose to her feet, curtsying without thinking much of it. "Thank you for your assistance, Bianchi-san. Please excuse me." She left off all the other meaningless courtesies she would have given were it anyone else; there was a special understanding here between the two of them.

But as she turned away for home, Bianchi said, "Masami."

Masami paused and glanced back. Bianchi's eyes burned, her red lips twisted into a smirk that was all power and confidence and danger. "Don't forget: the men own the organization but the organization owns the women. _Don't let them own you_."

She only smiled fearlessly. "They won't," and it was a practically a promise.

* * *

"What is it today?" Kyoya sounded sulky, and he hadn't even tasted anything yet.

She swallowed back a yawn without much facial movement and frowned slightly at the hours of sleep she'd been getting recently. At night, the doubts and guilt came for her like a pack of hyenas pouncing upon weakness, whispers of _you should have stayed_ and _if you'd trained them properly, truly trained them, this wouldn't have happened._ "I'm not done yet, Onii-san."

He scoffed but didn't say anything more, instead flipping through the reports of the most recent victims: two karate-practicing third-years, one male and one female.

Masami sprinkled the last vestiges of the Parmesan cheese over the mixture of butter, flour, milk, spices, and more cheese, before dumping the pasta inside the sauce and stirring. "Why does everyone think I have all the answers?" she asked out of the blue.

Kyoya snorted without missing a beat. "They're herbivores."

"Sawada-san's an omnivore according to you."

"He's also a small animal being pursued by carnivores." He closed the files and pushed them away in disgust. "The baseball herbivore has potential, but the other one is too hot-headed. He'll get himself killed if he's not careful."

She hummed noncommittally and poured the pasta intp two bowls, bringing them over to the chabudai. "Nine more to go."

"Find them," Kyoya said, and it was almost an order, might have been one if not for the exhaustion that kept them both up at night.

Masami sighed for the nth time that week. Being a carnivore and fending for your territory was all good and well until you realized the fate of a town rested on your shoulders. _This is your fault_ , that insidious, foul-scented hyena growled. "Please eat your pasta, Onii-san."

* * *

The attacks came very quickly after that short lull, the eye of the storm passing with devastating speed. Five victims near the school, closer than ever before, a particular Captain of the Boxing Club among them.

Sasagawa Ryohei was in the hospital with seven of his teeth missing, Tsunayoshi was distraught, Kyoko was upset, Hayato was handling dynamite, Takeshi was smiling an assassin's smile, and Kyoya was ready to hunt down the interlopers and bite them to death.

(The almost-friendship that flickered between Ryohei and Kyoya was one Masami had never questioned or intruded on. That didn't mean she wasn't aware of its existence.)

"They're Kokuyo Middle," he said curtly, stalking out in brisk, dangerous steps. "He saw two. Blond, scar over his nose, and black hair, white beanie. Stay here and guard, little sister."

She didn't argue, aware that someone had to watch over things while he was away. In the same vein, she also couldn't deny the unease bubbling up beneath the pragmatism, the venomous concern that drove her to match his steps for longer than necessary.

This was, in many ways, no different than going off to deal with some unruly yakuza or troublesome delinquents. True, it was most likely Mafia, but Hayato was mafia, and he wasn't a sincere challenge to either of the Hibari siblings. Yet...still, she was on edge, agitated behind her usual poise.

Masami wanted to say something, offer to leave Tetsuya in charge, go with him herself, or even just to push a few of the remaining prefects to go with him. Really, sending along even Hayato or Takeshi would have been a relief at this rate. But they were who they were, and that meant they didn't interfere in each other's business.

And, for all that she had the prior claim on Tsunayoshi, this was very much Kyoya's business.

For the first time in years, Masami regretted their rules, a slow burn against her heart. Quelling her anxiety, she smiled and bowed, stopping at the gate. "Good hunting, Onii-san."

Kyoya grunted in response and was off, gakuran jacket flapping out behind him.

She stared after him for a rather inappropriate amount of time before turning on her heel and walking back into the hospital.

* * *

 

Takeshi was smiling. His fingers flexed, looking for a baseball bat or a katana. It was almost surprising, really, how quickly he had grown accustomed to the sword after only a few days of basic katas. His dad said that he wasn't ready for more, and although Takeshi thought different, he knew that his dad had made up his mind and would keep to it.

They were pretty alike when it came to stubbornness.

Tsuna was inside, talking to Senpai. Gokudera leaned against the wall next to Takeshi, smoking a cigarette despite the sign that proclaimed smoking was prohibited inside the hospital, the line of his shoulders tense and mouth set in a ferocious scowl. It was rather obvious that he was blaming himself for this, and Takeshi knew why.

It had been too close this time. They, whoever 'they' were, had come too close. Before it was just prefects, and yeah, that was creepy and scary, but this was Senpai, who they knew, who had helped them with the Pole-Knocking and who Tsuna had boxed with, and he had been attacked and got hurt and had his teeth pulled out.

As a message. For Tsuna.

Takeshi was smiling because that was what he knew how to do, and he thought that Tsuna didn't need any more pressure and Gokudera didn't need any more variables to handle. In the dark spaces of his mind, past the cheerfulness and the calm, he thought about Senpai's attackers and what they were planning to do to Tsuna.

He didn't know where the little guy was. These guys were much too close to Tsuna, now, and if they weren't able to protect him. Well. They needed to be able to protect Tsuna. _Takeshi_ needed to be able to protect Tsuna.

The steps, when they came, were nearly silent but heeled boots tended to be conspicuous, and Takeshi wasn't surprised when Masami appeared in the doorway and walked up to them.

He was surprised, however, when he realized that Masami's posture was almost as stiff as Gokudera's, although she was much more subtle about it. Her fan hid most of her face but there were lines in the corner of her eyes, and her movements were too sharp, not as fluid as normal.

"What do you want, maiko witch?" Gokudera asked, voice as brutally sharp as the edge of a blade. Takeshi didn't miss the fact that he was dropping the cigarette and stomping it out with his shoe though. Was it a sorta trained reflex or did he actually care for what she wanted? Takeshi had never been able to decide between the two.

Maybe it was a little bit of both. It was hard to tell with Gokudera. Masami was even better at hiding everything, much like Takeshi himself, so it was more than a little odd that she was so transparent at the moment. At least he knew that Gokudera tended to lash out when he was angry, even when he was just angry at himself.

Masami's eyes flickered to the door. It was slightly open, the small crack revealing nothing. She stopped two meters in front of them and stayed silent for just a second too long. "Sawada-san?"

"He's in there with Senpai." Takeshi kept his tone nice and easy. Now, he suspected, was not the time to challenge Masami, even though he didn't know why yet. "What's up?"

Masami didn't say anything.

"Look, if you don't have anything important to tell us, just fuck off." Gokudera picked up his cigarette and threw it into the nearby trash can, creating a beautiful parabolic curve. His words weren't nearly as pretty. "Juudaime doesn't need to put up with your abuse right now."

Takeshi resisted the urge to wince. Frustration and protectiveness all but radiated from his classmate but, well, that was kind of harsh. He knew that Masami could be harsh, too, but Tsuna never complained, sometimes even seemed to take courage from her strength. Takeshi had never claimed he understood their relationship, but he respected it.

Sure enough, Masami's eyes narrowed minutely, and she went statue-still, but she didn't retaliate in words or actions. Her voice, when it came, was soft and chilly. "We know the identity of the attackers."

Gokudera snapped to attention. At his side, his fingers clenched into fists. When he opened his mouth, Takeshi knew that Gokudera's words were going to be lined with razors, so he cut in first with a smile. "That's good, right? Now we know who we're playing the game against."

"Indeed." Her gaze was too direct, too frigid, too unblinking. "Kokuyo Middle, at least two."

"Well then, why aren't we going after them!?" Gokudera spit out, green eyes incensed.

"Onii-san already has."

Oh, Takeshi thought. That was the problem, wasn't it? Normally, Masami could weather everything Gokudera threw at her with nothing more than a polite smile and diplomatic words and the occasional smack of her fan. Today, her fan had yet to leave its position against her jaw, and there was something brittle in her silence.

He didn't understand the relationship between Masami and Hibari either, but he knew familial love when he saw it, no matter how strange and unconventional it was. Hibari was strong, but he was her brother, so it was more than possible that Masami was just worried for her brother, and that was why she was off-balance.

Not that Gokudera seemed to care about that. He crossed his arms, leaning forward aggressively. If anything, he only looked angrier, and that wasn't good.

It made Takeshi uneasy. Takeshi knew all about the importance of teamwork, and now was the worst possible time for them to start fighting amongst each other, not that he could really blame either of them. Gokudera's number one priority was Tsuna, and Masami was probably worried about her brother and her prefects and her town.

It was weird, because Gokudera had Bianchi, and shouldn't he know about being concerned for a sibling? Apparently not because he accused, "What, you just left it all to him!? What if he fails? Juudaime's safety is on the line here, and you're just going to lounge around!?"

"Hey, hey, I'm sure Masami's doing the best she can," Takeshi said, holding onto his smile with more effort than usual. "Besides, someone has to watch over Namimori, right? Everything'll be fine."

As could only be expected, Gokudera whirled on him. "Shut up, baseball idiot! This isn't some stupid game, there's no happy ending guaranteed! We shouldn't be standing around doing nothing! What if that bastard _doesn't_ win, huh? What then!? I'll tell you what, Juudaime's going to become the target, and the Mafia isn't known for mercy!"

If Masami wasn't still standing upright and not unconscious on the floor, Takeshi wouldn't have known she was still breathing; she was utterly motionless. There was something very dangerous in her lack of response, both verbally and physically, and he was reminded of a viper poised to strike.

He wondered if Gokudera recognized that he had essentially told her that it was likely that Hibari would die if he didn't win. He wondered if Gokudera even cared at this point.

It was probably best for everyone that Tsuna walked out right with a frown on his face and his brow furrowed but perfectly safe and sound. It took him about five seconds to notice the tension thrumming in the air and freeze, dark brown eyes assessing the situation; Takeshi had the feeling that Masami had taught him how to do that.

Tsuna's frown deepened, his previously thoughtful expression turning to abject concern. He shifted his weight, coming to a stop an equal distance away from all of them after shutting the door.

Takeshi tried to look at things from Tsuna's point of view. Gokudera's body language was blatantly hostile, Masami was a thousand kilometers away and way too on-guard to the observant eye, and Takeshi was pulling on years of experience to keep himself neutral and relaxed.

Yeah, Tsuna was probably right to be perturbed.

"Guys?" he prompted hesitantly. "What's wrong?"

Masami spun on her heel and glided out of the hallway.

* * *

"Kyo-san's not back yet," Tetsuya said to Masami four hours later, voice carefully modulated and bland.

She paused, the pencil in her hand snapping neatly into two. There were stacks of paperwork on her desk. The laptop pushed to the very edge of the desk displayed a map of Kokuyo Land on one half of the screen and the details of the victims on the other. Masami set the pencil parts down with uncalled for gentleness. "Yes," she said softly. "I know."

Tetsuya hesitated. "Will you be going after him?"

She stared, unseeing, at the form in front of her. "He wouldn't want me to."

"...Kyo-san isn't invincible." The words themselves were almost a form of betrayal, an expression of lack of faith, if not for the fact that it was Tetsuya who said them.

"Yes," she said. "I know."

* * *

In retrospect, she shouldn't have let him out of her sight.

Of course, at the time, Masami was juggling the remains of the prefects—the ones too weak to make it onto the countdown list—the authorities, the worried citizens who wanted her reassurance, the school administration, and the condition of the victims. She was keeping a sharp eye on Tsunayoshi, Hayato, and Takeshi, surely the next few targets. She was running herself ragged trying to maintain some semblance of order in Namimori.

It was Tetsuya. Steady, dependable Tetsuya. He didn't fight, although he was quite capable of it. Tetsuya overlooked the fight, cleaned up the aftermath, and was Kyoya's right hand. She hadn't been thinking.

She hadn't been _thinking_.

In retrospect, she should never have let him out of her sight.

* * *

Tsuna said, "Don't," and Reborn blinked at him.

"We need to check his teeth, Dame-Tsuna." Reborn didn't let go of Kusakabe's jaw.

"No, we don't." Tsuna was proud when his voice didn't even waver. He wasn't friends with Kusakabe, not really, but he really did respect the other student, both for dealing with the Hibari siblings on a daily basis and for the rare kindness that Kusakabe had shown him. Kusakabe didn't deserve this indignity on top of everything else. "It's going to be six, right, Gokudera-kun?"

Gokudera teleported across the room as if by magic to appear by Tsuna's side. "Right." He was chewing on a cigarette but it wasn't lit. Tsuna still hadn't gotten a satisfying explanation for what had been going on between Gokudera, Yamamoto, and Masami earlier either.

"I guess this means Hibari ran into trouble." Yamamoto's smile was absent as he walked up to them, hands in his pockets. "Hey, you," he said to one of the lingering prefects panicking silently in the corner, "does Masami know about this?"

The prefect jerked his head up, eyes wide as saucers. "H-Hai!" His distraught face conveyed very clearly that whatever her reaction had been, it had terrified the life out of him. Tsuna was quite familiar with that look, as he had seen it often, sometimes in his own mirror.

"Here, take a look at this." Reborn handed Tsuna a paper, Gokudera and Yamamoto crowding around him to look at it over his shoulders.

"Namimori Middle's fighting strength ranking?" Tsuna read aloud.

Gokudera, however, hissed sharply while Tsuna was still processing the information. "This is it! This is what they're basing their attacks on! Look, Juudaime, the order of victims matches the ranking list exactly! Damn it, if we'd had this list earlier...!"

"Gokudera’s next," Yamamoto noted with a curious lilt to his voice. Tsuna froze up. Oh God, oh God, _oh God_. "And then it's me, Tsuna, Masami, and Hibari." For one long second, the world ground to a stop. Tsuna's eyes were widening with the first strains of complete and utter panic when Reborn neatly cut him off.

"Dame-Tsuna." Reborn's gaze was unyielding, hard. "This is Fuuta's ranking list. We've taught you about the Omertà already, so you should know that there's no way an ordinary person would have access to this list. What are you going to do?"

Tsuna stared at the list and suppressed the urge to scream. This had been what he was afraid of! He didn't know what to do; why was he in charge of these decisions!? He had never even wanted to enter the Mafia, much less become the Vongola Decimo or whatever! This was why he hadn't wanted his friends to get involved either!

"Tch, this is nothing! Don't you worry, Juudaime, we'll get these freaks!" Gokudera grinned reassuringly, absently throwing a stick of dynamite from one hand to the next. "They're not going to lay a single finger on you!"

"Yeah, what he said!" Yamamoto laughed, propping an elbow on Tsuna's shoulder. "This inter-school mafia role-play will be great!"

Tsuna sweatdropped at his friends' eternal optimism. Even if they truly thought everything would go fine—Gokudera was rash, and Yamamoto was naive, so could he trust their judgment of the matter?—he wasn't at all sure what _he_ was supposed to do. Reborn expected him to be a leader but Tsuna didn't know how to do that, not really.

_"Hold your head high, keep your back straight, speak politely, be confident, trust in your instincts, and be composed at all times. The dance will come naturally when the music sounds."_

Masami's voice echoed in his ears, and before he even knew what he was doing, Tsuna was taking a deep breath and adjusting his posture, forcing his panicked thoughts to settle somewhat. As soon as he calmed down, he realized what the problem was. "Wait..." he said slowly, fixing his eyes back on the list, "if Hibari-san is out of commission, and Gokudera-kun and Yamamoto are here...then the only one left on the list is Masami-san!" The thought made the blood in his veins run cold.

For so long, Tsuna had been under the impression that Masami was mostly invulnerable, and Hibari was on another plane of existence entirely, but if these guys had managed to get Hibari, and Hibari was stronger than Masami...his oldest friend was still only human, too.

Gokudera scowled and spun around, stalking straight up to the previous prefect and grabbing him by his collar. "Where is she!?" he demanded, shaking the poor guy back and forth. "Tell me!"

The prefect squeaked. And told them.

* * *

When they burst through the doors, Tsuna was near frantic with panic and Masami was sitting calmly at her desk, legs crossed, hands in lap, barely batting an eyelid at their loud, dramatic entrance. "Greetings." She didn't rise out of her seat to bow.

"Masami-san! Are you alright!?" Tsuna gasped out before his mouth caught up to his brain, and his eyes notified him that Masami looked like she had just been in a meeting with Important People, not so much as a strand of black hair out of place.

"I'm fine," she said, flawlessly mild.

"Shut up, maiko witch," Gokudera mumbled, hands braced on his knees as he tried to get his breath back. "Be grateful that Juudaime was so worried about you! We had to run all the way here from the damn hospital!"

"I appreciate the effort."

"Well, I'm glad that we were able to catch you before they did!" Yamamoto straightened up with a laugh, the least winded out of all of them. "You're the second person on the list, by the way."

One eyebrow was gradually arched. "List?"

Tsuna held the paper out. Masami took it, scanned the names, and glanced at Gokudera. "May I borrow your lighter?"

Gokudera frowned, brow furrowing in confusion. The antagonistic air from before seemed to be gone, though, because he only hesitated for a second more before digging in his pockets and tossing her the silver lighter he used for his cigarettes.

Masami smiled very politely and promptly lit the paper on fire.

"Hieeee," Tsuna whimpered.

Masami casually kept her eyes on the steadily burning paper and remained motionless until the flames were creeping up towards the corner she was holding the scrap from. Before Tsuna could start to panic over her accidentally—or not so accidentally—burning herself, Masami straightened her arm and tilted her head.

Reborn appeared out of nowhere in a firefighter's costume and doused the paper with a fire extinguisher.

 _"Hieeeeee!"_ Tsuna yelped.

Masami laced her fingers together and rested her chin on the bridge created. She was looking at Reborn. "Rokudo Mukuro."

Gokudera stiffened, his eyes going wide. "Fuuuuuuuuck."

"Gokudera?" Yamamoto glanced between Gokudera, Masami, and Reborn curiously,

Reborn tilted the brim of his fedora down, shadows obscuring his eyes. "How do you know that name?"

"You're not answering my question, Reborn-san." Her smile never reached her eyes, cold, cutting steel gray. Tsuna shivered, the icy feeling that trickled down his spine not unlike the oppressive doom that had enveloped him when Hibari had stormed in weeks before, furious and murderous.

But...if Masami thought this was important...then it must be. "Reborn? What is Masami-san talking about?"

"...Two weeks ago, there was a jailbreak at a high security prison reserved only for the most terrible of mafia criminals who have committed the most heinous of crimes. The escaped criminals killed several of the wardens and other criminals. After that, the mafia's information network tracked down the ringleaders behind the jailbreak."

"No one said he was coming to Japan!" Gokudera began to pace, strung out and agitated.

Reborn nodded. "The mastermind was Rokudo, but he had two subordinates. Following that, three students returned from abroad transferred into Kokuyo Middle. Not long after, a gang of hooligans was formed. That was ten days ago. And guess who the gang leader happens to be?"

"This Rokudo guy, huh." Yamamoto rubbed the back of his neck, smiling. "He's the final boss of this particular game, right? We get him and everything goes back to normal."

Normal. Tsuna hadn't realized until now just how halcyon 'normal' had been, playing video games with Reborn and Lambo, having to deal with Bianchi teaching Haru and Kyoko poison cooking, crying over homework with Yamamoto and being tutored by Gokudera, being bitten to death by Hibari, and talking with Masami.

"Normal," Tsuna whispered. "I want normal again."

Gokudera set his jaw and smiled at Tsuna. "Then that's what we'll get for you, Juudaime! You can definitely count on your Right-Hand Man!"

"I won't be taking part in this fight, and you'll only have one Dying Will Bullet," Reborn informed him cheerfully. "So you'll have to try your best."

"Hahaha, we can do that!" Yamamoto put his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels.

Masami didn't say a word but rose to her feet, regal as a queen. "Gather your weapons, a first-aid kit, and some food and water. We'll meet at Sawada-san's house in one hour." With that, she swept out the door, parting them like Moses and the Red Sea.

* * *

But, of course, it couldn't be nearly that easy.

* * *

Masami was...composed, controlled. There was no fire threatening to break free from her control, no reckless, destructive fury raging within her. She was not going to go charging after Onii-san like a thoughtless fool and ruin whatever chance she still had at containing this madness.

No. She knew tactics; she knew battle strategy. This was a trap. A spider's web that had closed in around Kyoya, a taunt, a lure. Now was not the time to be blinded by emotion. There was ice water in her bloodstream, not lava. Her mind was diamond-sharp, not clouded.

These _intruders_ were not going to _win,_ not even if she had to track them all down by herself and slit their throats.

(Perhaps, her mother had known her better than she had known herself. Perhaps, this was truly inevitable, as Reborn seemed to think.)

Masami stepped off the school grounds and smiled politely at the thin, lanky student in a white beanie and green Kokuyo Middle uniform. The description happened to be rather familiar. "Greetings," she said, bowing shallowly, never taking her eyes off of him.

"Namimori Middle School, class 2-A, seat number 10, Hibari Masami," he drawled, nudging up his glasses. "Number two, which is out of order, but Yamamoto Takeshi isn't available at the moment. Let's get this over quickly. I don't like to sweat."

"...noted." She snapped open her tessen and pressed the silk to her lips. "And you are...?"

"Kokuyo Middle, second year, Kakimoto Chikusa. I came here to break you." Blunt, blunt words. She was neither impressed nor frightened.

"So it appears. Would you mind if we moved this elsewhere." It wasn't a question. She had convinced the Principal that school should be canceled for the day, but while most of the students had had the sense to stay at home, there were still herbivores out and about.

If they started fighting here and now, they would attract attention. At the moment, Masami couldn't care less if her pristine reputation was blown to high hell, but Namimori didn't need any more destruction and despair after these past weeks. The civilians were not to be injured or traumatized.

And when she got finished this particular dance, there _would_ be blood staining the ground. The question was simply whose.

"I don't care," he said, impassive. "This is not meant to be a show."

Masami didn't bother with a reply but angled her body to the right and began to lead the way to an abandoned field hidden behind the bulk of the school. Chikusa followed without a word, hands in his pockets. Curious, frightened eyes turned to watch them, but she smiled, reassuring, angelic, and no one made a move to intervene.

Neither of them turned their backs on the other until they arrived at the circular clearing, where they faced one another with five meters of distance between them.

"Would you like to lead this dance?" Masami invited, weight on the balls of her feet, form relaxed and ready, smile affable, and fan at her side.

Chikusa blinked but was otherwise unperturbed. "Fine."

The world slowed down a bit.

His right hand withdrew from his pocket, his arm swung out, and her eyes tracked the movement instinctively. He was holding something—a weapon, most likely—and she was jumping, flipping forward in mid-air. A second later, a barrage of needles hit the patch of dirt she had been standing on, and a yo-yo was swinging back towards her, string glinting in the sunlight.

_Interesting._

The world sped up a bit.

Masami knocked the yo-yo away with her fan, careful to remain out of the trajectory of the needle releases. She was on the downward curve of her fall, and there was another yo-yo arching through the air, heading towards her collarbone. She flicked her wrist and let her gunsen slip into her hand, deflecting the projectile easily.

Landing lightly on both feet, a cloud of dirt slamming up around her, Masami pushed off without halting her momentum, sprinting forward. Chikusa's right hand pulled straight back, his left hand swinging around, and she knew that those yo-yos were heading towards her unprotected back.

She smiled.

Planting her right foot firmly on the ground, Masami went low and pivoted, the yo-yos flying above her even as needles flew out, one catching her along the side of her neck. Warm blood trickled down her skin, but she paid the wound no mind.

He hissed out a breath as he realized his weapons were now heading for him and twisted his wrists to roll up the yo-yos, the disks smacking into his palms. Completing the three hundred and eighty degree turn, she rose to her feet and slashed up with her fans at the same time, not holding back.

Chikusa was fast enough to avoid the tessen but the gunsen caught him along the chest, a beautiful sideways cut that went from his hip to his shoulder, blood flashing through the air. It wasn't a particularly deep cut, but it wasn't shallow either, and she didn't hesitate to slam her closed tessen into his throat while he cried out.

These people had lost all rights to her mercy when they first attacked a Namimori student, much less her _brother_.

He staggered back a step and leaped back before she could attack again. A flick of his wrists sent the yo-yos singing through the air once more, but it was a simple matter to predict their trajectory and avoid and deflect. The needles were a bit more bothersome, however, and one brushed against her knee while another sliced into her abdomen.

It didn't slow her down in the least.

And, more to the point, while Masami had quickly caught onto the steps of his dance, Chikusa had not nearly had enough time to learn hers.

It took her less than three more minutes to pick out the gaps in his defenses, and she wasn't merciful in exploiting them. When Chikusa sprang back once more, he was bleeding from shallow and deep cuts in various places, vivid bruises already blooming on his skin, visible where his uniform had been torn to shreds.

Gasping, he stared at her as she straightened up and went predatory still, in much better condition. His blue eyes were wilder than before and grudgingly respectful. "You're strong; you have to _know._ Who are the members of your Family, and who's your Boss?"

So, she thought clinically, they were after Tsunayoshi after all. It was strike three, should she have needed it. "I acknowledge no one as my superior. And I hold no loyalty to the Mafia. But I'll tell you if you answer a question of mine."

Chikusa looked at her, assessing. "...troublesome. All right."

"Hibari Kyoya. How was he defeated?" Masami's voice was very, very soft.

Understanding flickered across his face. "Sakura."

She smiled, and it was a smile not a single member of Namimori Middle had ever seen, with the exception of Kyoya, dark and knowing and very not-nice. His eyes went wide. "Sawada Tsunayoshi," Masami said, every syllable precisely pronounced, and _moved_ , her original and secondary objective complete.

Her tessen smashed into the back of Chikusa's head before he could even realize she had been holding a fraction of her speed back for the entire dance, and he collapsed at her feet, unconscious. Masami watched it happen without flinching and inhaled deeply when there was no more movement to be seen, putting her fans away once more.

Almost absently, she reached down and picked up one of the needles lying on the ground. Holding it in front of the sun's glare, Masami pursed her lips, a hint annoyed.

Of all people, why did it have to be _him_?

* * *

"Shamal-san? I need a favor."

* * *

Tsuna arrived at the scheduled meeting place with Gokudera and Yamamoto by his side, a hooded Bianchi tagging along, and a much too cheerful Reborn leading the way. The road seemed to stretch out before him, the lingering sense of dread that he hadn't managed to extinguish twisting his gut into knots.

What deity did he offendL what sin did he commit? Not only was he going to die, he was going to bring everyone down with him!

He hated this situation, hated that people were being attacked, being hurt, being _hospitalized_ because he was supposed to be the so-called Vongola Decimo—and this was _his_ life that this Vongola Nono was arranging for him; didn't he get a choice in the matter?—but he knew that he couldn't be a selfish coward any longer.

Not with Onii-san in the hospital. Not with Fuuta as a hostage. Not with Hibari-san missing and Masami upset. Not with Gokudera and Yamamoto on that list.

Tsuna grasped his resolve in a bloodless grip and tried not to shake uncontrollably. Even after everything, he was still scared to death, scared _of_ death, but he thought that that was okay, even understandable, no matter what Reborn might insist. Masami might have pushed him to face his fears, but she had never insisted his feelings were invalid.

 _"Fear is sensible,"_ she had said when he'd asked, almost philosophical in one of her rare open, thoughtful moods. _Fear keeps us aware. Fear wakes us up before death can shut us down. There is no shame in being afraid so long as that fear does not control you. Sometimes, it's best to run. Sometimes, it's time to fight."_

Of course, Masami expected him to fight 95% of the time before Reborn came into his life and at least 75% of the time after, but her words were comforting all the same.

And speaking of Masami, she was waiting for them up ahead. Thankfully, the tension in the hospital and the hint of violence in her office Tsuna had sensed had disappeared. It was more than likely that she had regained the vicious choke hold she held over her emotions and her outward image instead of actually calming down, but he was relieved regardless.

At least until a soft voice in the back of his mind urged him to pay attention, and he came close enough to zero onto the small cut on her neck.

"Masami-san!" Tsuna sprinted the last few meters, blanching as worst-case scenarios started to race through his mind. He'd _known_ she was on the list, he'd _known_ these people were dangerous! Reborn had been with Tsuna, Gokudera and Yamamoto had been together; how could he have forgotten Hibari wasn't here to watch Masami?

As it was, even as those thoughts passed through his head, he caught the unimpressed look she aimed at him and skid to a halt in front of her, hands wringing uselessly, wanting to reassure himself but knowing better than to touch her casually. "Masami-san! Are you alright!? What happened!?"

"Whoa!" Yamamoto, who had been right behind him with Gokudera, glanced over Masami quickly, obviously having caught on to the same thing. "Hey, you okay? It doesn't look like you're injured really bad..."

Gokudera was more brusque as usual. "Maiko witch, what the fuck?"

Reborn didn't even have the decency to look surprised. Bianchi's covered face gave no clues either.

Masami let out a small sigh that spoke clearly of how unnecessary their fussing was. Tsuna couldn't quite bring himself to care about her disapproval at the moment. "I'm perfectly fine," she assured. "The dance went very well—nearly no missed steps."

Tsuna blinked and then smiled faintly, the familiar metaphor soothing him more than anything else. Meanwhile, Gokudera's eye twitched, but Yamamoto laughed. "Sounds good," he said, letting his bundle of sushi and tea dangle at his side. "You can tell us the details on our walk. Ready to go?"

"Yes." Masami smiled, slow and sweet and undeniably sanguinary. "Let's be off."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OpalescentGold: And...we've finally reached the breaking point. Masami is decidedly not happy, Tsuna is determined but scared, Gokudera is ready to FIGHT SOMEONE, and Yamamoto is already ready to FIGHT SOMEONE. 
> 
> All the thanks to my wonderful beta! Please leave a comment and feel free to follow me on [tumblr](https://opalescentgold.tumblr.com/)!~
> 
> Chabudai: tables with short legs.
> 
> Engawa: the veranda outside the room, often wooden
> 
> Fusuma: sliding panels that act as doors and walls.
> 
> Gunsen: a lightweight but strong folding fan.
> 
> Shoji: a sliding panel that is made of translucent paper in a wooden frame.
> 
> Tessen: heavy folding fan with outer spokes made of heavy plates of iron.
> 
> Yukata: inexpensive, informal summer robe for summer, similar to a kimono.


End file.
